Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in the time to come.

Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.
 Prologue

3 de enero de 1827

Dear Elizabeth,
Today you have not been far from my mind. It’s a new year, although I suspect that
it will be the last. I lose myself in my thoughts more than I am present, and
Although I have shared parts of my story, I have never written it all out from beginning to end.
end.
Many of the things I will write you already know, but this story will be for
your daughters. And for mine. And for generations of girls who have not even been born.
A newspaper columnist named Herman Mann - he himself calls himself
the novelist interviewed me at length for a book, and I was hopeful that
that he would write my story just as I had conveyed it to him. But it seems to me that
Some things are impossible to express, especially to a stranger. The
The pages you have shared with me bear little resemblance to the story I lived, and there are
You need to understand my story to understand my decisions. It's better that I write it down.
myself, even though I struggle with sensitivities.

I am used to it.
The records I kept during the last years of the Revolution were
scarce and insufficient, but the events are burned into my memory
memory and I revive them in dreams. It seems like another life, although the remnants of that life
they remain with me, in my flesh and in my posterity.

I thought that nothing could be worse than the small and painful existence that
I was living. I also feared that the war would end and I would lose my only
opportunity for liberation. It turned out that I saw all the bloodshed that
I could endure. I saw children die and adult men cry. I saw cowardice reign and
to weaken courage. And I witnessed the cost of dreams, up close and in
person.
 Had I known, I could have avoided everything, the pain in my leg and the
the price of independence, mine and that of my country. But then I wouldn't have
known. And he would not have come to truly know me.
People ask me why I did it. Mr. Mann kept coming back to that over and over again.
question, and I didn't have a simple answer. A question like that demands all the
history. All I know is that once the desire took root in me, it grew and grew,
until denying it would have drowned the hope in my heart. And hope is what
what keeps us alive.
If I had been pretty and small, I might have had different dreams. I have
reflected on it many times. Our aspirations are often seen as
influenced by our appearance. I wonder how mine has changed.
They gave me the name of my mother, who was named like the biblical prophetess.
Deborah. But I didn't want to be a prophet. I wanted to be a warrior like Jael, the woman
who killed a powerful general and freed his people from the grip of oppression. About
Everything, I wanted to free myself.
At five years old, I was alone in the world. At eight, I became a maid.
a widow who treated me like a dog. At ten, I worked for a farmer.
until I turned eighteen.
It is impossible to describe what it feels like to have no voice in one's own life, to be at
mercy of others and being expelled. I was only a girl then, but the fact
The fact that they would tie me up marked me deeply and ignited a rebellion in my veins.
that I have never suffocated.

Perhaps that was the moment I became a soldier.

Perhaps that was the day when it all began.
 Chapter 1

THE COURSE OF HUMAN EVENTS

15 de marzo de 1770

Winter had begun to retreat, but summer was still a long way off.
and the horse we were riding cut its way through the thawed road and
filled with furrows, with his head tilted and an uneven step. The man who was going
in front of me was protecting me from the bite of the early morning cold, but I
curled up in unhappiness behind him, ignoring the lurking field and the
bare branches that pierced the sky in search of signs of spring. My
my legs bounced against the horse's flanks and I huddled my skirt in the
knees. The dress was tight on me, the woolen stockings fit me
large and a piece of skin between both was becoming raw.
He was carrying all the clothes he owned and a backpack on his back that contained a
a blanket, a hairbrush, and a Bible that belonged to my mother.
Do you know how to read, Deborah? asked Reverend Sylvanus Conant. He cast the
ask over the shoulder as if they were crumbs for a bird. There was no
spoken since we had set out and I considered the possibility of
do not answer. On the occasions when I had visited widow Thatcher, it had been
kind to me, but today I was angry with him. He had come to take me today.
The widow Thatcher no longer needed me and I would move again. I would not miss it.
less your slaps, the harsh criticisms nor the endless tasks that never
they made him satisfied, but he did not trust that my new situation would be
better.
This time, I would live with a family. Not my family. My family had left.
thrown to the wind and scattered. My brothers and my sister were all in the
servitude to someone, in some place. My mother couldn't support us. Hardly
she could support herself. I hadn't seen her in years, and I would see her even less
living in Middleborough.
 Yes, I can read very well, I conceded. It was preferable to converse than to sink into the
discontent. —My mother taught me when I was four years old.
Is it true? he asked. The horse that was carrying us neighed in disbelief.
I moved, trying not to cling to the man, but I wasn't used to
setting up like this, and the crest of the old mare's back made for an uncomfortable seat.

My mother says I carry reading in my blood. She is the great-granddaughter of William.

Bradford. Do you know William Bradford? He was on board the Mayflower. People liked him.
he appointed his governor - I felt the need to defend my mother, even if only
out to defend myself.
That's right. It's an inheritance you can be proud of.
My father is a Samson. There was also a Samson on board the Mayflower.
Henry Samson. My mother said he came alone to the New World.

She must have been very brave.

Yes. But my father is not brave.
Reverend Conant did not disagree, and I sank into an embarrassed silence.
by my confession.
Do you know your Bible? -he asked me, as if offering me redemption.
-Yes. And I have memorized the catechisms.

Oh?
I started to babble the questions and answers outlined by the Assembly of
the Divine ones.

Oh my God, girl! He interrupted after several minutes of recitation. There was no

finished, but I stopped. Widow Thatcher had not been impressed by my
achievement. He had scolded me for my pride. I was hoping that the reverend would do the
same.
That's very commendable,
I can keep going, I suggested, biting my lips to hide my pleasure.
I know everything.

“And do you know how to write?” he asked.

 Dude, slightly discouraged. Reading was easier than writing, and the widow
Thatcher had wanted him to read to him, sometimes for hours and hours, but he did not
I would have liked you to send my letters.

I can - I said. - But not as well as I read. I need more practice.

One thing is to read another man's thoughts. Another thing is to express
the own. And paper is expensive —said the reverend.
—Yes. And I have no money —I was surprised that she asked me. She was a girl,
after all, and a maid, but their questions made me have
hopes.
"Do you think the Thomases will let me go to school?" I asked.
It was her turn to doubt. -Mrs. Thomas needs urgent help.
I sighed, not surprised. I would not go to school.
But I'll bring you books, if you want,
I was about to fall out of my position behind him.

—What kind? —I said, although I barely cared. The Bible, the catechisms.
and a collection of maps and diaries that had belonged to Reverend Thatcher
eran los únicos libros que la viuda Thatcher tenía en su casa. Se los leí todos en voz
high to the elderly, even the newspapers, although they were full of sermons and little
more. The pages that my mother had copied from the records of William Bradford
they were much more interesting, but I really felt like something new.

What kind of books would you like? the reverend asked.

-Stories -I would like to have stories. -Adventures.
Okay. And I will bring paper and ink as well so that you have the means to...
practice your writing. You could write letters.
Who will I write to?
She did not respond immediately and I feared I had been impertinent. The widow
Thatcher often accused me of it, although I had always done all
I carried out tasks accurately and only spoke when I was spoken to.
 I would like to have someone to practice with, I explained. I needed
a friend. She had spent the last five years with older women who were
worn out and tired. —Maybe Mrs. Thomas will allow it.
Maybe —he didn't say anything more about the matter, and I didn't allow myself to hope that
I would do what I had promised.
The Thomases live about three kilometers from the village. It is a good exercise.
para las piernas. Nada más. Tienen una granja, un lugar bonito. Te resultará muy
pleasant.
I looked beyond my misery enough to assimilate the day that I
surrounded us. The mud of early spring slowed our journey and the land
succionaba los cascos del caballo, pero el cielo de la mañana se estaba volviendo
blue, the sun had started to warm my back and the breeze stirred my pale
hair. She had spent too many days locked up at home, fluttering nearby
the widow Thatcher to attend to all her orders. The world beyond that
stifling rooms and stale air had called me, my limbs and
my lungs had longed for speed and movement. If I had believed that the
Reverend would allow it, I would have asked him to let me down so I could run along with the
horse. I loved to run. But the road was rough from the journey, and not
I trusted that my wishes would be taken into account, so I swallowed them.
The first time I caught sight of the house in the middle of the forest and fields, I felt
a ray of hope. She was well taken care of, and the windows formed a face
friendly with the main door and the small gate that separated the yard from the
road. The door suddenly swung open as we approached, and a woman, with her skirts up
the hand ran to receive us, with a black-haired child hot on his heels. A
burly man, with a hat on his head and the sleeves rolled up
As if he had just gotten off work, he called the reverend when we stopped.
Don't be afraid, Deborah, the reverend said gently. Here you will not be
mistreated.
The boys were coming out of the barn and entering from the fields, boys of all
sizes, although most seemed bigger than me. Reverend Conant
he seemed to know all their names and greeted each one, but I didn't know what
whose name belonged to whom. There were so many and I had very little experience with others.
children, especially boys. They saw how their father helped me get down from the mare,
although it was not the inability to disembark, but the restlessness that had me
stayed glued to the seat instead of sliding down to the floor.
 Deacon Jeremiah Thomas had two frowns, one on his forehead and
another on the lips, but his wife, Susannah, a woman who barely reached him
shoulder, was its opposite in every way. Its sobriety, he would come to discover,
no era crueldad. No era jovial, pero era justa, lo cual era una cualidad mucho
better in my opinion. Susannah Thomas smiled at me and took my hands.
Sylvanus didn't tell us you had grown so much. You are so tall for being ten.
years and you are already a young woman.

I nodded, but I didn't smile. I guess I also seemed

quite fierce, although it was just fear. He introduced me to his children, of
from oldest to youngest. Nathaniel, Jacob, and Benjamin were eighteen, seventeen, and
sixteen years. The three were of medium height and slim, with dark hair and the
freckled nose, which wrinkled at the sight of me. I don't know what they expected, but it was clear.
it wasn't me. Elijah was bulkier, with lighter hair and a bigger smile.
easy. She was fourteen years old, and Edward, thirteen, was her reflection in the mirror, as if the
Mrs. Thomas would have given birth to her children in groups, whether they were born or not.
same time.
Francis and Phineas, twelve years old, were real twins, with dark hair and the
the slimmer build of their older siblings reappeared in them. I was more
taller than both, and the one named Phineas frowned when his mother
he used to mock my height. David and Daniel were also twins, ten years old like
me, with curly brown locks that needed to be groomed. I was also
significantly taller than them.
Jeremiah was the youngest, at six years old, and the only one who did not seem to have a
double. I hoped, for Mrs. Thomas's sake, that the six years
after Jeremiah would mean that there would be no more.
We will try not to overwhelm you, Deborah, although we are very excited.
having you here. It will be good to have another female in the house. You will help to civilize my
children.
Alguien soltó un bufido, aunque no supe con certeza quién. La señora Thomas
se volvió, enlazó su brazo con el del reverendo Conant y anunció que la cena
I was ready.
Get up and come in, kids. Deborah, bring your things. I'll show you where.
you will sleep.
 Mrs. Thomas turned her attention to Reverend Conant, and they entered into the
house, chatting like old friends. Deacon Thomas was already carrying the
horse at the watering hole, and I raised my backpack, pulled up my fallen socks and I
I arranged to follow them. The Thomases had started to speak in low voices, and I
I remained motionless, with my back to them, striving to hear.

She is simple like a fence post.

In the shape of a one as well.

—And her hair is the color of straw —whoever was speaking let slip.
a giggle. —Maybe she could stay in the field and scare away the birds.
Their eyes are beautiful. I think I have never seen eyes like theirs.
They are terrifying! We will have to set up a watch every night, to
to prevent it from killing us all in our beds.
I burst out laughing, the shriek of joy surprised us all, and I turned to
show them a wicked smile. Better that they fear me than reject me.
He has a good set of teeth," someone whispered, and I laughed again.

"It's frankly peculiar," said the older brother, but the boy named...
Phineas had also started to laugh and, one by one, the others followed him.
uniting.

I did not civilize the boys.

One could even say that they radicalized me.

They slept in the large attic, above the great hall, in built-in bunk beds.
pending from the roof. Only David and Daniel, the youngest twins, were sleeping in
a normal bed, and it was barely big enough for the two of them. They slept with the
heads at opposite ends and the feet tickling the nose.
They gave me a room of my own. It was nothing more than a closet, separated from the
kitchen through a thin wall and a door, but it was big enough to
to house a narrow bunk bed, a couple of drawers and a foot-long table
depth and two wide. And it was mine. I had my own bed, my own space.
Being a woman in a house full of male children had its advantages, although one
occupy the position of a maid.
At first, the Thomas brothers kept their distance and looked at me.
as if he were a thief or a leper. Jeremiah, the smallest, was the first.
who became fond of me. Maybe it was because we were both loose ends, but
she quickly took hold of me and made me her companion. We were even born the
same day. I turned eleven the day he turned seven, and Jeremiah took it
like a signal.
Do you want to be my twin, Deborah? asked Jeremiah, looking at me with
sorrowful eyes. —I have no one.
I laughed. —You have nine brothers, Jeremiah.

But I am the dwarf. I have no one who belongs to me. And you don't even...
You have a mom or a dad or sisters and brothers.
I have them... somewhere.
Well, what good is that?
It doesn't help much, Jerry. Not much - I agreed, and my heart
It was strangely lighter to tell the truth.
So you can be my twin.
And what do the twins do?

—Un gemelo es la persona a la que más quieres. ¿Crees que podrías amarme
more?
That will be easy.
Will you do it? Her toothy smile made my heart swell.
I will do it.

I love mom a lot, but loving mom is like loving God. She doesn't
is really a person.

—Jeremiah! —I gasped. —She is too.

 —I just want to say... that it belongs to all of us. I want someone who only
belong to me —he repeated.
That's fine. But I will try to love your brothers too, because that is what
what Reverend Conant says I must do.

—Even Nathaniel? —he seemed doubtful. —And Phineas? He is bad. He told you that
no man would have you.
No man will have me because I will not have him. And I will not need him.
I will have you, Deborah.

You won't do it, Jeremiah. You are seven years old. And now we are twins.
Do you remember?

—We don't look like twins... but that's okay, right? —Jerry was small and
dark-haired, and I am tall and blonde, as different as night and day.

Appearances do not matter at all if your hearts are the same.

—I declared, hoping it was true.
She smiled at me as if I had given her the world. I suppose so. At least the
small part of the world that was mine. I loved her like a mother and treated her
like a prince, and got me into all sorts of troubles that I wouldn't have
daring to go in alone. Jeremiah was the first to call me Rob -
abbreviation of Deborah- and the reason why I later responded to him without hesitation.

The Thomas family didn't treat me badly. I wasn't family, but they valued me.
work was endless with so many mouths to feed and bodies to clothe. The
Reverend Conant was right. They needed me a lot and could not do without me.
me to go to school, but due to the many tasks assigned to me or
I couldn't free myself from the anxiety that consumed me.
Thomas for every drop of learning they shared, often making their
tasks and mine for taking a look at their notebooks.
And Reverend Conant did not forget me.
During the following year, he brought me several books. My favorites were one
collection of Shakespeare and a work in four parts titled Travels to Various
remote nations of the world. Reverend Conant called it The Travels of Gulliver.
I read it to the brothers after dinner and they praised me as a great speaker.
 Reverend Conant was quite a speaker, and I would sit in the pews of the
First Congregational Church with the Thomases and I listened to him preach. I believed every
the word that was said. In a way, it radicalized me too, if faith is.
it can be called radical. I have come to think that it can be the most rebellious thing of
all.
I do not know why Reverend Conant was worried about my learning or my
happiness, but I did it, and it was thanks to him - a man who loved God and me
I loved me, two extremes of the powerful spectrum - that I began to see how it was the
the love of a father. For him, I was simply Deborah, worthy of expectation and
affection, and the things that mattered to him came to matter deeply to me
me.

—Debes seguir memorizando. No he conocido mayor consuelo en mi vida que

to be able to turn to the words of God when my own are lacking —he told me with
frequency, and I memorized everything, just to prove to him that I could. Just to hear
his praises. He also found me a kind of mentor, a 'correspondent'
"epistolary" in Farmington, Connecticut.
Her name is Elizabeth. She is my sister's daughter. My niece. She is an adult, a
young wife and mother, and a woman of importance. I have asked her if
I would correspond with you, to expose you to the rest of the world, and it has
accessed delighted.
"What am I going to say?" I shouted. I became excited and trembled at the thought. Not yet.
She was a woman and I couldn't imagine what interest she would have in someone like me.

You must say what you want.

Is... nice? I didn't want to exchange letters with someone who...
will scold.
Yes. Very kind. You will learn from her what I cannot teach and even what...
that Mrs. Thomas cannot teach.
Mrs. Thomas knows how to read and write, although her handwriting is not neat.
wanting to defend the woman who treated me so well. It wasn't her fault that she didn't
she was a woman of "consequence".
Yes, but you live with Mrs. Thomas. There's no need to write her letters.
said Reverend Conant, always judicious. I had never heard him murmur a
bad words about no one, especially about good people, and the Thomases were
good people.
How many letters can I write? I asked, out of breath.
You can write as often as you want, as often as you can.
There will be many. I like to practice.

He frowned, but he didn't laugh at me. —Yes, I know. And Elizabeth will appreciate your
letters.
How should I call her? Cousin Elizabeth... or Mrs. Paterson... or perhaps
Can I call her Lady Elizabeth? —the idea thrilled me.
She's not a duchess, Deborah. We don't have titles in America. I'm sure.
What Elizabeth will serve.
Why do they have titles in England?

— Tradition. England is married to tradition and in love with it.

station. Here it is different. A man is what he makes of himself. It is not something that
he is granted —the reverend sounded so proud.
—And the women too?
What?
Is she a woman who makes something of herself?

Yes. A woman is what she makes of herself... with God's guidance, for
Supposedly. We all need God's guidance.
But what if we don't want to go in the direction that God wants for us?
So I guess we are alone. I wouldn't like to be on my own.
Not entirely.

—No— I whispered, although I often felt alone. Completely. —And the

King George? —I pressed.
What's wrong with him?

You said that we don’t have titles here. But he is still our king. Isn’t he?
Like this? After the massacre in Boston, some say it shouldn't be.
 The only king I adore is the King of Kings, Lord of Lords, the Father.
Eternal, the Prince of Peace —the Reverend Conant frowned and had the
tense jaw.
I nodded seriously, but my heart was also beating strongly. Sylvanus
Conant podía ser leal, pero acababa de pronunciar las palabras de un rebelde.

27 de marzo de 1771
Dear Miss Elizabeth,
My name is Deborah Samson. I am sure you have already been warned that
I am going to write. I am not an accomplished writer, but I hope to be. I promise you that
I will work hard to make my letters interesting for you to enjoy.
reading them and allows me to continue. Reverend Conant tells me that you are kind,
Pretty and intelligent. I am not pretty, but I try to be kind, and I am very intelligent.

I love reading and I love running, although I have little time for both.
things, because there is always work to do. But I read the Bible every day, and I am
memorizing verses from Proverbs. Do you have a favorite? Below,
I write one that I already master, just to practice.

The wicked flee when no one pursues; but the righteous are bold as a lion.
bold as a lion
I told Mrs. Thomas that running is not the same as fleeing. It seemed very to me.
daring, like a lion. He didn't laugh, although I saw Phineas smiling. I fear that I am
quite rebellious. I attend the First Congregational Church with the Thomases. Your uncle
Sylvanus preaches every week, and although I care for him a lot and he is very ...
convincing, the hours of inactivity are a torture.
Last Sunday I lied and said that I wasn't feeling well and left before
the final hour. I ran straight to the forest and spent a blessed afternoon climbing
the trees and swinging on the branches. I know the path that goes behind
from the grove to the Thomas farm, and I have started to clean it of roots
and stones that would trip a girl if she ran as fast as she could;
that girl is me.
 Mrs. Thomas asked me what I did in my free time between tasks and
dinner. I told him that I was clearing the way. I even quoted the Scriptures to
assure him that it was a fair task. Proverbs 4:26 says: "Reflect on the
footpath of your feet, and let all your ways be established.

That is exactly what I have been doing. Reflecting on the path

from my feet and establishing my paths. Mrs. Thomas thought it was good.
activity, and even said it was a kind service for others who could use it
that road, but I didn't tell him everything.

I call it my bold path. I have claimed its ownership, as I have done.

all the work. It gives me a place to run without anyone seeing me. I have told them to
the boys I could beat all of them, maybe even Phineas, who is very fast,
if they let me run without the skirts getting in my way. They have accepted my challenge and me
they have given me a pair of very worn underwear that fit me quite well and
a matching shirt. I can run so fast with them that I am convinced that
they are magical.

I hope you don't think I'm evil, but if running is a sin,

I will simply have to keep being a sinner, since it is the only thing that
calm my mind.
Your obedient servant,
Deborah Samson
I'll tell you everything about the race, even if I don't win.
 Chapter 2

IT BECOMES NECESSARY

Although I kept my complaints close to my heart, putting them in writing was a

waste of paper and ink. Sharpening the pen just to bring out the axe did not help to
mitigate the sting of my circumstances. Instead, I made lists of my weaknesses.
Not to punish me, as that was not productive either. I took an inventory to be able to
overcome myself. The Bible says that the weak become strong, and I was determined to
be strong. Every day, when I wasn't too tired to write,
I was listing the things I had fallen short on and counting the things in which I had succeeded.
that had been successful, always trying to extend the last column. But there had been
many things that I could not teach myself, and I sought instruction there
where I found her.
The younger boys complain a lot about their lessons, I told him.
Reverend Conant on one of his visits. - I help them as much as I can, but
I would like to have my own lessons.
Reverend Conant always timed his visits to coincide with dinner. He couldn't
blame him. He had no wife. He claimed he was married to the gospel and the lady
Thomas said that he "took care of all his flock," but I liked to think
who was especially watching me. He always asked me a series of questions
when I was passing by here.

Deacon Thomas and his children had entered for the midday meal,
but most had eaten and dispersed, without interest in the conversation
politics that inevitably occurred when the reverend was present.
Nathaniel and Benjamin were still there, eating as if they were
hungry, and Jeremiah had set up his little soldiers in a corner of
the room was plotting an ambush.

—Les ayuda demasiado —reprendió la señora Thomas. —Se aprovechan de su

curiosity.
 Deacon Thomas spread butter on his bread. - They want to be out. I was
same.
I also want to be outside, I said. But I'm restless, even in the air.
free. I can't satisfy myself, no matter what I do.

Don't you have enough to eat? - the lady asked in astonishment.

Thomas, Nathaniel, and Benjamin took a break from their work.

—Yes. Yes —my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. —Forgive me, madam. No
I mean food. I'm hungry... to know.
"Know what, girl?" said Mrs. Thomas.
—The world, I suppose. I want to go to Boston, to New York, and to Philadelphia. I want to go
to Paris, to London, and to places that have no name ... at least not yet.
Elizabeth went to London and Paris —I bit my lip and looked down. —And I
I would like to know God.
I added the last part because I thought I should. It was true... but
not as much as the first part. Deacon Thomas looked at me with a frown
wrinkled and Mrs. Thomas was wringing her hands.
Keep studying the Holy Scriptures, replied Reverend Conant.
There is no better way to know Him. It is a wonderful gift to have His words.
You don't have to go anywhere. He is right there.
But I want to go somewhere, I confessed.
Reverend Conant laughed, and I loved him for that.
Proverb nineteen says that the soul that lacks knowledge is not
good —I argued. —It is a sin not to educate oneself —I thought my reasoning was
solid.
Proverb nineteen also says that he who rushes with his feet sins.
The deacon Thomas said, with his cheeks full. —I would say that you have problems,
Deborah - her tone was soft, and her eyes didn't even lift, and for a
At that moment, everything fell silent. Then laughter filled the whole table.

You got caught well, right, Rob? -Nathaniel laughed. They only called me
thus.
 Enough already, Mrs. Thomas reprimanded, but her lips were also moving.
I don't know why you call Rob Deborah. It doesn't look good. A woman deserves
a woman's name.

"Are you a woman, Rob?" — Jeremiah raised his head from his toys.
amazed, and the laughter increased.
No, I didn't civilize the kids. Not at all.
I will bring you more books. Maybe that will help with your desire to travel. And here you have one.
letter from Elizabeth. A very long one —the reverend reassured me when Benjamin
And Nat finally got up and left the table.
I took her, begging them to excuse me, and Mrs. Thomas gestured at me.
with his hand so that I would leave while he reminded me that there were still tasks left
to do and that it wouldn't take long. I hurried to enter my small room and
I closed the door behind me, but I could still hear the conversation between the reverend
Conant and the gentlemen Thomas.

She's stubborn, Sylvanus —said Deacon Thomas, and I made a note to add it.
to my list of flaws. —And proud. And she cannot always hold her tongue.
— Sólo espero que sea una bendición para ti — respondió el reverendo
Conant.

—No puedo quejarme —dijo la Sra. Thomas. —En absoluto. No sé cómo he

I could have lived without her. She achieves much more - and she does it well - than I do in a day. Never
I have seen a more motivated person.
But driven towards what? grumbled Deacon Thomas. He was watching me.
with unease when he looked at me, and he had barely spoken to me in the two
years that he had been living under his roof.

However, he was wrong.

I could hold myself back.

I held it most of the time. He would be horrified if he knew all the things.
that I didn't say.

She has a great energy, Mrs. Thomas used to say. She handles the spinning wheel like...
a teacher and has a gift with the loom. Nathaniel has taught her to shoot. She says
that already has better aim than him. The truth is that there are few things he doesn't know.
to do.
 I smiled at that, despite the sting of Deacon Thomas's criticism, and
I turned my listeners' gaze away from the letter I held in my hands. Elizabeth did not
I wrote to her as often as she did to me. I had written her dozens, but only she...
I had sent a few, so as not to abuse their kindness or trample on their goodness.
will, but this letter was deliciously long.
It had beautiful handwriting, like geese in formation, flying across the page. I
I had started trying to copy it, to train my hand to follow the
pattern of hers. My handwriting resembled the waves of a storm, rough and relentless.
Como yo. Es curioso que la caligrafía de una persona revele tanto.

15 de abril de 1772
Dearest Deborah,
You make me laugh, dear girl, and I read your letters with astonishment and joy. It is strange
to think that we are only eight years apart. In a way, I feel old-fashioned.
compared to you, although I am convinced that you could instruct me in
many aspects. I have scrutinized the Proverbs in search of something to inspire you,
but I have found myself laughing out loud, trying to imagine how you could
apply each one of them.
I read your letters to my John. Even he, a man who has never done a thing
irresponsible in his life, laughed a lot when you told the episode about the underwear
magical. I would have liked to see the Thomas being defeated in that one.
running race. You've awakened my curiosity to put on a pair and find my
own path.
I hope that someday you experience the joy of turning someone's head.
a gentleman with something more than your speed or your strength. You have such a brilliant mind.
y una voluntad tan fuerte, y tu carácter brilla a través de tus cartas. Sospecho que
you will become a woman who inspires much admiration. Do not rush to
discard the blessings or the power of our sex, my young friend. My grandmother
told me once that men can rule the world, but women
they govern men. Something to reflect on, certainly. Sometimes one must let go.
to win over the brothers, just to cheer them up. I think men are more
prone to let us play if they believe they will succeed.
Uncle Sylvanus tells me that you are the brightest girl he has ever met.
It worries me that you can't go to school, but it says that a school is little.
rural could teach you. I can teach you little! Still, you must ask me all
the questions you have, and I will strive to answer them in a way that you
they instruct and entertain you, as you have done with me.

Your longtime friend,

Elizabeth
Proverbs 31 is my favorite, although I acknowledge that I am in a situation.
of my life different from yours. I especially like this section:
She opens her mouth with wisdom; and the law of kindness is on her tongue. She cares
the paths of her house, and she does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up, and the
they call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.

I carefully folded the letter and placed it in the growing stack of letters from Elizabeth.
I had so few possessions, and I cherished each one of them. My Bible, the one that I
My mother had given away, it was next to the sink. My mother had written down
orderly his lineage in the inner cover, since the marriage of William
Bradford and Alice Carpenter in 1623 until the union of Deborah Bradford and Jonathan
Samson in 1751. My mother was also a Deborah.
I had added my siblings -Robert, Ephraim, Sylvia, Dorothy- and myself.
same in a neat line under the names of my parents, an effort to
connect to the branch and among us, even though they had cut us off and
dispersed.
I turned to Proverbs 31 and read it in full, trying to imagine myself
same as a woman more valuable than rubies, a woman who spoke with
wisdom, and was clothed with honor and strength. I dressed in homemade fabrics and trousers.
loaned, at least when I could afford it. The boys had never given me
delayed, although Phineas had threatened to do it after he beat him.
in a wrestling match.
I certainly did not eat the bread of idleness. That should count for something.
 I closed the Bible and took out my accounting book. I added stubborn to my list of
defects and I stared at it before crossing it out and adding it to the other side. I wrote
strong-minded. That was what I was. I was strong-minded. And that was not a sin.
I left the account book open to dry and left my room,
determined to look carefully at the paths of the house, at least until she turned
eighteen

Middleborough was a small community about thirty miles south of

Boston, but the town boasted of having two churches: the First Church
Congregational, where Reverend Conant presided, and the Third Baptist Church,
that seemed to have equal and passionate followers. Once I asked what the
difference, apart from the minister, and Mrs. Thomas said that one was true and the
not another one. I asked her which one, and Mrs. Thomas didn't find it funny at all, although
I didn't mean to make any joke.
I liked that one could choose and that no one was forced to attend anything.
of the two -except if one was a child or a servant-, although the decision not to
asistir a una u otra parecía recelar de la gente y tensar las relaciones. Ambas leían
the Bible, they sang similar hymns and prayed to a similar God, according to the
Reverend Conant. The reverend seemed more concerned about the presence of
British troops in Boston because of the existence of another church in
Middleborough, so I wasn't too worried either, although my
insatiable curiosity made me listen to the debates in the public square after
the Sunday meetings, when most of the other young people stayed away.
But the discussions about which church was the true one and which version of God
it was even truer, they paled in comparison to the political fervor that
había apoderado de las colonias, o al menos de Massachusetts. En una carta,
Elizabeth claimed that she was everywhere.

28 de julio de 1773
Mi querida Deborah,
 Many of John's partners and our friends don't want to know anything about
the rebellion that is brewing in Boston, but, as John says, the problems of
a colony affects all the colonies. A clear dividing line is being created
between the rich and the common people, those who do not benefit from trade with
Great Britain and who are resentful of taxes, regulations, and the
orders from above.
John is worried about what the problems will mean for our future and him.
of all the colonies. It says that the oppression that is not resisted eventually becomes
in slavery, and has begun preparations to move the family to a
place called Lenox, in western Massachusetts. His cousin lives there, and John wants
that the family stays away from conflict, if there is any, although it is likely that it will be seen.
dragged into the fray, wherever we go. He has broad shoulders, the
cold head and a patriotic heart.
Lenox is on the edge of the border, and I confess that I am not excited about the idea of
transfer. But I suppose that if John's mother, his sisters, and their families
They come with us, I won't mind. Of course, my daughters will support me.
busy.
I can't understand how the circumstances keep evolving. Without a doubt,
England does not want war. John says that the British do not believe that the colonists
be capable of prolonged resistance or an organized revolt. We
they despise us and call us pestilent. A certain British lord, I do not remember his name
At this moment, he was bragging that he could crush all the rebellion in the colonies.
at dusk with a single regiment and not suffer a wrinkle or a scratch.
You are so young and I don't want to scare you. I often forget that you are just
thirteen years. Your questions are those of a scholar, and I confess that I do not have the
answers most of the time. Maybe I'll ask John to write to you about
topics in which I am not well versed.
We should also write about simpler, more pleasant things. Little
we can do together in the face of the upcoming problems, so we should not
let them darken our correspondence. The doctor has just confirmed that
I am pregnant again and we want to settle in Lenox before the baby is born.
the baby. Our house is almost finished. John promises it will be great, and I
I will bring culture and civilization to that place, although given the size of the town,
I don't think that's difficult.

I am still your friend, always,

 Elizabeth

The Patersons moved to Lenox and Elizabeth gave birth to their third daughter,
Ruth, named after John's favorite sister. Little Ruth joined.
Hannah, four years old, and Polly, two, in the Paterson family. John had
four sisters, all older than him, and Elizabeth said that he was destined to
to be surrounded by women. He still managed to write regularly,
Although the letters were slow, and I often wrote three for each of them.
suyas.
I only had my own thoughts to fill the pages, but she did not.
seemed to matter to him. He was pleased with my analysis of Shakespeare and offered some of the
yours. He shared my disappointment with Othello - he killed Desdemona! - and enjoyed with
my defense of the poor Shylock from The Merchant of Venice, although I did not share my
feeling of injustice in his case. He felt weakness for the marginalized, even
when they were presented as villains. Most likely, I did too.
out.
In May of the following year, the news of the Boston Port Act reached the
U.S. costs. Parliament had proclaimed all closed.
New England ports. Nothing came in and nothing went out. Deacon Thomas said
that the British intended to end the resistance, forcing everyone to
to go out and punish the merchants for ignoring their rules.
The king revoked the Charter of the Massachusetts Bay, which was essentially the
license of the colony to operate independently from the Crown in any
form. All officials governing the colony were paid and
appointed by the British. Trials would not be held in Massachusetts and would not be
would allow no meeting, assembly, or speech without the permission of the governor of the
Corona.
They had also demanded that people quarter the British troops in
their houses, and that was what alarmed Mrs. Thomas the most. She was sure of
that a regiment would enter Middleborough any day and seize the
house and the farm.
 The 'Intolerable Acts' is what people called them, but those things had
It has been happening for as long as I can remember, and the people had tolerated it. Not
I knew a time when people did not complain about the Crown. There is no
taxation without representation, it was something that people loved to say, and the
last December, a group of rebels who called themselves the Sons of the
Liberty had boarded three ships in the port of Boston, ships
property of the British East India Company, and had thrown
all the tea into the water to protest against King George's prohibition on importing tea
from anywhere other than England.
It was all very exciting.
I sent a letter to Elizabeth asking her the definition of 'habeas corpus' and
the dozens of other terms used repeatedly by those who
they were considered authorities in the field. Her husband, John, responded very
kindly with an answer to each of my questions. Elizabeth had
mentioned that he studied Law at Yale and even taught for a
time, and I could barely keep my gaze fixed on the words, I was so eager
of the content. He didn't talk to me like a child, but rather wrote in a
clear and concise language, as if one had taken the time to think about each
point. He was a very good teacher, and my understanding improved a lot. I read the letter
so many times that I was able to recite his explanations from memory.
In Massachusetts, the counties held conventions to consider the
alarming state of public affairs and establish its own government,
separated from the 'agents of the Crown'. John Paterson was elected delegate of
Lenox, although he and Elizabeth had been living there for less than a year, but
he seemed disenchanted with the assemblies.

I concluded a letter saying: —All the attendees insist on chattering, without

to impress no one but themselves, and we leave these congresses with nothing
really substantial. The Crown needs to see a united force. We will save
lives -mostly ours- if we can be clear in our demands and
collectives in our approach, but men are divided by the loyalty that
we all feel towards Great Britain, and I do not think anyone believes that we could
defeat them in a real war. Great Britain is a nation that stands out in this
type of conflicts, an empire that has dominated for centuries. It is David and Goliath,
but then I remind myself who won that contest, and I have no
so much fear. If God wants an independent America, He will make it so.
 There was no talk of anything else. Every conversation, every visit, every word that
it was about the looming conflict with England. Everyone
I had an opinion, although most repeated the same points over and over again.
as if they had seen them printed on a flyer or had heard them say
someone more learned than they. Even Reverend Conant preached about the
tyranny and freedom in his sermons, but he was careful not to call for the
congregation to the revolution. Still, no one questioned his stance.
Honor your father and mother, that your days may be long upon the earth.
—it was beginning, and the congregation was rising, knowing what was coming.
But how long will we continue to be children in the eyes of King George? How long
When will they claim that high position? England is not our home. It never has been.
has been for a long time.
There were many people chatting about loyalty to the 'motherland'.
They always made me eager. Motherland. I hated that name, but
I assumed others would have different reactions. I felt very little loyalty.
towards my own mother and even less towards the country that expelled my ancestors to
but because they were not content.

Reverend Conant said that we could have been the freest people of
everyone, but the colonies were seen as the kings and nobles
They have always seen the common man. Not as individuals, but as profits.
It's time to end the idea that people are made
for its rulers —he told Deacon Thomas one night during dinner, and
we all nodded, shaking our heads as if we understood the meaning
historical record of such a statement.

If we do not exist for the king, why do we exist? I asked. He was not.
sitting. I was serving, carving the meat from the roast that I had made all the
day. I thought I had done a good job, but the family was sitting and
hungry, and I did not trust that my efforts would be well received. The cat
he grabbed a piece and ran away before I could recover it. He took it.
He ate, licking his lips, and I shrugged, leaving the dish on the table and
I took a bunch of orders: a cup of milk, another bowl of butter, a
bread knife.
Governors are appointed by the Crown, and their loyalty is towards the
Corona, not towards the town over which they have authority — said the deacon
Thomas, ignoring my question. — We see these things as simple
rights, but the governors claim that they are concessions that can be
revoke at will.
The Lords of Commerce have been threatened by the freedom that fills
our lungs —said Reverend Conant, and I resisted the urge to turn back
intervene. John Paterson had told me everything about the Lords of
Trade. They considered the colonies as landowning estates and to the
colonists as laborers who worked on them. I imagined them in tunics
black and white wigs, distributing freedom or favors, charging their gold, without
to meet the people whose lives they affected.
If we do not exist for the king, what are we here for? I asked again. I did not
they mistreated me, but I was not free. And I did not know my purpose, beyond work.
If neither King George nor the Lords of Commerce govern us, who will govern us?
That is the question, isn't it, Deborah? replied Reverend Conant,
chasing her peas around her plate. But no one replied.
 Chapter 3

A VILLAGE

Although I was only five years old when he left, I had very clear memories of my
father, and they were not pleasant. I resembled him. His eyes were the same color.
hazel and our hair the same color as the wheat of the fields that he hated. A
my father did not like agriculture, he did not like Plympton and he did not like us
neither I nor my siblings. She worried incessantly, and my mother always tried to
calm him down, even though he had five children hanging from his skirts. I wasn't hanging. I was
clinging to her feet.
It was his departure that led to me being sent to live with cousin Fuller without
nothing more than my name and the stories of my mother to remind me who I was.
My mother moved in with her sister, and the house we had lived in before
that my father fled was occupied by another person.
Instead of a farmer, father thought he would try to be a sailor or captain of
ship -the story changed often- or merchant. Mom told us during
long time that I would return. Or maybe that was what she told me, the few times
that I saw her. My sister Sylvia and my brothers Robert and Ephraim, older than me,
they were also sent far away. Mom stayed with the baby. Her name was Dorothy and
mom called her Dot. She died of croup some time after our family
will cease to exist.
I don't remember Dorothy at all. It was a faceless scream, a dot in the
landscape of a truncated life. Perhaps my mother should have given it another
name. All the Dorothys in the family tree had a tragic ending.
I never saw my brothers again and I have no idea what they were told.
but I suppose my mother instilled her identity in them just like she did in me. Mother us
taught our heritage.
I learned to read from William Bradford's diary and to write by copying his.
words on the earth. The journal I read was not the original. His descendants had
made meticulous copies so that the record would not be lost. The version that
it was printed with my mother's handwriting, which reflected her feelings
a touch almost feminine, as if it were my mother who was experiencing her
tests and triumphs. Its history was intertwined in all the early memories that
I had of her. I believe her pedigree was the only thing she felt proud of.
As I had done with the catechisms, she recited line after line the
writings and the wonders of her great-grandfather. His life filled our stories before
sleep. One of the first letters I received from her after I moved in with the
Thomas was a desperate summary of his life, as if he could not bear that
I will forget the details. She wrote:
My great-grandfather, William Bradford, was born in 1590 in Yorkshire, the son of a wealthy
landowner, but his life would not be that of a beloved son. His father died when he
he was just a baby, and he became an orphan at the age of seven when his
mother.
It was curious, like you, Deborah, with a love for books and learning.
It fascinated religion, not only God himself, but also the right of men to surrender.
worship according to their beliefs.

William began to attend secret meetings with a small congregation.

who called himself a separatist, but King James swore to destroy all the
reformist movements and imprison those guilty of religious disobedience. The
people were fined, imprisoned, and persecuted, betrayed by their neighbors and
rejected by his friends. William and a small group of reformers fled from
England to the Dutch Republic, where religious freedom was allowed.
At eighteen, I was a foreigner in a strange land, without family and with
few friends. He did the most menial jobs and earned a living with great difficulty.
pains, but she knew how to weave fine fabrics, a skill that has been passed down from parents to
children. I know how to knit and you do too. Through our veins runs their blood, their courage, their
talent and also his curiosity.
He could have stayed in Holland, but that was not the case. He was forced to
to make a living. Helped to secure transport on a ship called Speedwell,
but, unfortunately, he was not sailing well. He was not in a condition to sail. So
that the separatists and the small group of merchants they had hired
they boarded the only remaining ship, the Mayflower, and left everything else behind
back.
 They managed to cross the sea, cramped and sick, with the freezing water that fell.
about them from the trembling beams and the undulating waves. In their journey they
they performed great miracles, but miracles do not make life easy. Most of
Sometimes, miracles only make the next step possible.
It was December when they arrived and they had no other refuge than the ship. William
he had disembarked with a small group and had gone ashore to explore
the area. He was away for many days and, when he returned, he was told that his wife,
Dorothy had died. They had taken her out of the water and she was lying on the deck.

He had drowned in the harbor. He could see land, he had arrived at his destination,
but I didn't feel like continuing. Some say it was an accident. Others say
who was thrown overboard. He had left his son John in Holland with his parents and
I feared I would never see him again. Perhaps he thought that William wouldn ’t come back either. Sometimes
I think of her when I am most depressed. She lost hope, but we
We must not lose her. If God wills, we will be together again.
That is the hope that kept William fighting, a better world for
your children. That is what keeps me fighting too. As Isaiah says about the
Sir, William Bradford was a man of sorrows and familiar with grief.
But he did not succumb to pain, and we will not either.
Mother
It was after that letter from my mother when the dream began. The dreams
vivid ones were not new to me. In my dreams, I could fly, swim, and run without touching
the earth. My dream was never full of fear, only of freedom. But in this
dream, I was drowning, my skirts were dragging me to the bottom of the ocean,
my lungs were screaming for air.
I woke up tangled in the bed sheets, sobbing for another.
opportunity and furious with my mother. She rarely wrote to me more than a few
lines, once or twice a year, letting me know that he was doing well and
asking about my well-being in return, but for some reason, she thought that
I needed to know about a woman who drowned in the harbor, a story that
it has caused me nightmares since then.
Dorothy May Bradford was not my ancestor. My mother descended from Joseph,
a son of William Bradford's second marriage, and the blood of Dorothy May
It did not run through my veins. His tragic death was not a burden I should bear.
However, from time to time, she would come to me, and we would drown together in my
dream.
 She cried for her son and begged for forgiveness. I'm sorry, John, forgive me, John.

I struggled to wake up, but she never did, and if she ever changed her mind
opinion, it was always too late.

In February 1775, Boston was controlled by the redcoats - term

derogatory term to refer to British soldiers-, but the field was buzzing with
Activity. It had been a while since the law required each city to have its own militia.
to protect themselves from Indian attacks, and every boy over the age of sixteen
years he was required to serve, to have his own weapon and to know how to shoot it. But
those militias took on new life and purpose. Throughout the colonies, there had been
having reached the general agreement that a local government would be established, they were hoarding
supplies and weapons were chosen military leaders.
In April, British General Thomas Gage sent seven hundred British troops.
from Boston to Concord, about twenty miles northwest of the city, both
to destroy the warehouses that were stored there as well as to arrest a handful
of Sons of Liberty hidden in nearby Lexington.
The redcoats defeated the farmers and proceeded to destroy the
supplies, but on the way back to Boston, all the men from
Massachusetts in kilometers around took up their arms and got on the
trees and killed the redcoats, one by one, as they advanced through the
field, turning the mission into a bloody one. 88 settlers died, but the
The British lost more than 250 soldiers.
After the events of Lexington and Concord, Nathaniel was appointed lieutenant of
the militia of Middleborough, and when he was not instructing in the square of the
village, was instructing his brothers in the corral, shouting orders at them and
pushing them back to the line with a stick when they went the wrong way.
He let David, Daniel, and Jeremíah train with them, although David and
Daniel was still not sixteen years old and Jeremíah was only eleven and was a little
short. But what Jeremiah lacked in height or age he made up for with
enthusiasm. I observed their little brigade, laughing as I saw Jerry's serious face and
Nat's furrowed brow, and I joined them, following their steps and holding my
broom as if it were a musket.

Nat turned to me, angry. —This is serious, Rob.

I returned his gaze. I knew it was, but before they had always left me
participate. It was Nathaniel himself who taught me to shoot.
I know the exercises as well as any of you. And I can load
twice as fast —I said.
This is not a foot race, Rob. And we're not going to kill rabbits.
Phineas. —This is something you cannot do.
—Women cannot be soldiers, Deborah —Nat said, and he took away my
broom in hand as if it were loaded and dangerous.
I am going to Boston as soon as they let us know,
It had been a while since he had beaten me and he complained while looking down at me from his elevated position.

height, just a few centimeters above me. Phineas always competed

with me. I had never forgiven myself for that foot race. Now I was faster,
something that I lamented in secret, but my resistance was greater, and I never let go.
that he would forget it.

"You are not going anywhere," Nathaniel said, pushing Phin's shoulder.
trying to maintain order in their unruly ranks. —Someone has to help.
to Mother and Father. There is a farm to run, in case you haven't realized it. And
Deborah can't do it alone, even if she thinks she can.
I wanted to hit Nathaniel so badly that my fist curled up and I
It made my mouth water. I snatched the broom from his hands and headed towards the barn.
so as not to hit him with it.
I didn't need Nat's permission. I could maneuver on my own.
I had sat many times on a hill in the city and had seen the
men training, executing the evolutions mentally, counting the steps and
tensing my arms while my imaginary musket spun in my head. I knew
what was coming next and what came after. I had practiced each
exercise in the barn, repeating the signals to myself.
To serve in the military, a man had to be 1.65 meters tall. It was the height
necessary to load the long barrel of a musket. I had five left over.
centimeters, but the height was not strength. I knew it. She was strong for being a woman,
but I had never been blind to my own weakness. Every night, since the
men had started training, I would get up from the ground and go back down,
repeating the action until I could not continue. Then I held the weapon.
over the head, with arms outstretched, the weakest position for me, with
difference. I don’t know why I did it. It was an absurd company and a waste of
time, but the need to prove myself and to compete was a habit
impossible to break, even if they prohibited me from participating.

--Train with you, Rob --Phineas said as he approached from behind, but I...
he pulled the cap off his head and put it on. He looked ridiculous, with the
fluttering on his cheeks, and I chased him around the yard using the broom
like a sword and trying to get my cap back. He dodged the blows with the
mango of a shovel and, when he threw the broom aside, I ran across the
barn door, I grabbed a handful of dirt and straw, and threw it at his face while
he stumbled in behind me. He roared and grabbed me by the waist, with the
tight cheek between the shoulder blades, and knocked me down onto a bed of hay. I
I had used the same maneuver with him more than once. That was how the deacon
Thomas was catching the pigs.
Phineas had become stronger in recent years, and I simply
I had developed breasts and rounder hips, which hadn't helped me in
absolute. In any case, they were bothering me, and on top of that, I was wearing a dress. It made me feel
turning and pressed my shoulders to the ground, proclaiming himself the winner. —You are
immobilized.
I twisted and bucked, and he gripped the top part tighter.
body against mine.
You run like a boy. You shoot like a boy, you fight like a boy, and
you even look like a boy when you put on your underwear. But you don't feel like
A boy, Rob—I kicked, spat, and waved my arms, humiliated by his words, but
his eyes were frank when he pinned me down with his knees and stared deeply at me
the face. I thought I would drool and demand promises, as I had done a dozen of
Sometimes before, but he didn't. Or maybe he didn't have the chance.

Suddenly, Phineas stepped aside and Nat, with a flushed face, stood up.
at my side, with evident rage.
Enough already, both of you —Nat thundered, though her anger was directed at me. Phineas
he got up, brushing off his clothes, and he was no longer smiling. Pieces of hay were sticking out of him
hair and the clothes, and looked furiously at his brother.
 Why are you so angry, Nat? he asked, still trying to regain the
breath.
You know it very well. I told you this had to end. Now go.
Nat said, 'And close the barn door when you leave. I need to talk to Deborah.'
Phineas looked at me and then looked back at his brother, his face crimson.
although she wasn't sure if it was fury or embarrassment. She turned around and left,
accompanied by the clucking of the hens that were trying to move away from their
He knocked on the door with such force that the whole structure shook.
You have to apologize to Phineas, I told her.
Phineas has to apologize to you,

–Why?
— Because a man doesn't treat a lady like that. He says he is old enough to
fight. They are not even old enough to know it.
I am not a lady, I laughed. I am just... Rob. We've always been like this. You know it.
You know, Nat. He hasn't done anything wrong. He doesn't see me that way. He never has.
done. That's why I like it.
Do you like it, Rob? I need you to think about it long and hard. Do you like it?

Of course. I know we fight. But that's the fun part.

She crouched down and offered me her hand. I rejected it and got up by myself, brushing off my...
arms and shaking my skirts. I didn't know where my cap was. Damn
Phineas.
Phineas needs to mature. He shouldn't be throwing you around like this.
you were one of the siblings. You are not. You never have been. You never will be.

His voice was so vehement that for a moment I couldn't see from the pain that
It sprouted from my eyes, but Nat continued, undeterred.
You are no longer ten years old, Rob. You are a young woman. And you should act like it.
tal.
"Yes, I do!" I shouted.
He raised his eyebrows and stood there with his mouth open.
 Well... most of the time, yes! I insisted. But acting like a
Young woman usually means not having fun. Acting like a woman means working.
like a dog. It is very good that he beats the butter, milks the cows, and washes the
clothes. And in some way it is proper for a lady to scrub the floors, to hit the
carpets and do all the tasks. But I can't walk through the patio, run through
the hill or fight with Phin in the barn. Who decides these things, Nat?
She shook her head. 'For someone so smart, you're terribly stupid.'
Deborah Samson.
I gritted my teeth and my palm itched, just like before.
Did you hear what he said, right? - Anger had returned to her voice. - What he said
Phineas? Can't you feel like a child? Well, you don't understand. And neither do I.
you seem... because you are not. And don't think that Phineas and the rest of us do not
We have noticed. Why do you think Benjamin is suddenly avoiding you? He doesn't even
look into the eyes.

Benjamin had been acting strangely for some time.

But he had always been a little quieter, stuck right in the middle of the
herd. He was the obedient one, the peacemaker, and sometimes maintaining peace in a large
Family meant remaining silent. That's what the lady told me.
Thomas when I asked him if something was bothering him.

If you are not careful, Phin is going to think that wrestling means something.
different from what it means. If that is what you want, so be it. But it has to
mature. If he is not what you want, then it would be better for you to decide who is going to
be and let it be known.
What? To make known what?
You are beautiful. We all think so.

I was speechless. —I’m not —I mocked. —And no, they don’t think so.
He wrinkled his nose and tightened his mouth. He scratched his cheek as if trying to find
the words. —Perhaps not in the normal sense.
In no sense.
That's not true, Deborah. You're not pretty...
I have never tried to be it,
 I’m not saying it to hurt you. I’m trying to explain it to you.

I am not hurt - it would have hurt me if he had lied to me and said that.
I knew that my worth was not in my appearance.
-You are not pretty -he repeated. -But there is something about you. And it makes a person
take note. Something in your eyes. Mom has it too, although with her it's because
knows us and loves us very much. It's something different with you. It's as if you challenge
a man to challenge you, to tell you no, or to stand up to you.
What’s wrong with you, Nathaniel? I asked, astonished. First you get angry and now
You start talking about my appearance. And why do you suddenly call me Deborah?

That's your name, he spat at me, angry again. Nathaniel was lean and
slender, and not much taller than me, but he had always considered himself
above me. Above all of us. Perhaps it was his position in the
family. She was twenty-three years old, but she behaved as outdated as the deacon,
although their opinions were not always so predictable.
A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead, but he kept the part of
back and the shorter sides than fashionable, because he couldn't stand its rubbing.
against her neck. Mrs. Thomas or I would run the scissors through her hair once
the month and the blade across the cheeks every morning to keep at bay his
thick black beard.
He managed his responsibility as the elder well and often spoke on behalf
of his brothers; it didn't surprise me that he was now speaking on behalf of all of them.
I am simply left amazed by the topic.
I think we are all a little in love with you. Or maybe it's just
admiration. But you could choose among all of us. David, Daniel, and Jeremíah are
too young. Francis and Phineas are too, if you ask me, although
both are older than you.
Jacob is sweet to Margaret Huxley.
—Alright. Well, maybe not Jacob —she snapped. —But if you don't decide which of
You like both of them, and soon, it will cause problems between us. It has already done so.

—Have you done it yet? —my head was spinning. Nat had lost his mind.
But you've already grown... Why would you want me? I'm only fifteen.
Mom was sixteen when she married dad. He was my age.
 B-but... I'm p-p-promised until I'm eighteen.
I'm not asking you to go anywhere.
What are you asking?
He crossed his arms and then unfolded them, as if he wasn't sure where
put them. Then his jaw hardened and he grabbed me by the shoulders, as if
I was about to receive bad news and I wanted to hold on.
Then he kissed me. It was just a firm pressure of his lips on mine.
although I hadn't had time to tighten them or to get ready.

—Nathaniel! —she was so surprised that she could have pushed me with the
straw still stuck in your hair. —You don't even like me —I whispered.

—Yes, you do —his dark eyes sparkled and he kissed me again, although his
hands never left my shoulders.
Her lips were dry and her cheeks tingling, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was
a strange feeling, her face so close to mine, feeling the tingling of her
breath and seeing the tip of her eyelashes before closing her eyes.
I wasn't sure if I liked it. I wasn't sure if I didn't. But I didn't
I returned the kiss. I didn't know how to do it. Nathaniel had taught me to shoot,
but now he wasn't giving me instructions. He stepped back, moved his hands away and I
I looked in amazement.

You can't say that it never crossed your mind,

I shook my head. It had never occurred to me.
I would have expected. But the world is upside down. I have run out of time.

But... they have been like brothers to me. And none of you have said it.
never.
Of course. If you paid more attention to being who you are instead of trying
If you were to be what you are not, you would have put your cap on one of us a long time ago.
time.

I didn't really like that opinion. —Do you really want me to choose?
 He studied me for a moment and his eyes settled on my mouth, thoughtful. I did not...
It would have mattered for him to kiss me again, especially now that I was waiting for it.
Could you help me figure out how I felt.
She took a piece of straw out of my hair. —Yes. I want you to choose. I want you to
you choose me.
The barn door creaked and Nat stepped back, out of its reach. Not
there would be no more kisses nor more clarity.

—Nathaniel? —it was Mrs. Thomas, and her voice was sharp and her step quick.
Phineas says he's leaving. He's heading to Boston. He says you can't stop him. No one.
Yes. What the hell happened?

Nat sighed and I blushed, and he left the barn without explaining anything to us.
mother neither to me. Mrs. Thomas saw him leave, but did not follow him.

"War is approaching," murmured Mrs. Thomas, looking up towards.

mine.
I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure if he was talking about the country or the battle that
it was happening in the house, and I was too shaken by the
Nathaniel's statement to focus on something else.
I have ten children ... and war is approaching. May God help us.
I need more time, I told him, although I wasn't really speaking to him.
Not at all. —I am not ready.
—I'm not ready either —she said. —But no one ever asks us.
 Chapter 4

DISSOLVE THE BANDS

One night, tired and hurried, I sat down to write a letter to Elizabeth and the
I wrote completely in my diary before realizing my mistake. The diary was new,
a gift from Reverend Conant for my fifteenth birthday, and to tear off the
pages of the book would damage the binding. Additionally, my organized and demanding self
I couldn't bear the idea of missing a page or it tearing right at
principle. So I left it, copying the words I had written on loose paper
the next day.
The letter to Elizabeth, at the beginning of my diary, was a strange start for the
book, but in many ways it reflected my life and my circumstances better than
any essay or personal reflection, and the format seemed liberating. From
Since then I started with the greeting, addressing Elizabeth and often copying.
pieces of my entries in the letters I sent him, turning the diary into a
the most honest and unfiltered draft of what I couldn't say to her... or to anyone.
She was still being cautious. She was growing up in a house full of boys who didn’t
they stopped being curious about what I was scribbling, and I knew I shouldn't
write nothing that would destroy me if someone read it. It bothered me, but never
I had been silly. Being silly required a level of fantasy that no one had given me.
never allowed. The only intimacy that he truly had was the one he had
between the ears.
But that night, even at the risk of being discovered, I recounted the scene with
Nathaniel en mi diario y consideré, por primera vez, un futuro con cada uno de los
brothers, from Nathaniel to Phineas. I felt ridiculous doing it. Nathaniel
he said that everyone was "a little in love with me," but I hadn't seen it.
no evidence of that. A part of me was convinced that Nat was treating me
spending a cruel joke, although he had never been prone to such things before.
Whatever it was that Nathaniel had told Phineas, it must have
to work, because Phin didn't leave. During dinner, with a distant look, he asked me
apologies for his "brusqueness" and promised that it would not happen again. Benjamin,
sitting next to him at the table, he gave him a pat on the shoulder, as if to
to console him. The conversation then turned to the red coats and the skies.
blue, and if any of the boys were green with envy over the sudden interest of
Nathaniel did not say it.

Nathaniel sat down next to me at the table and, by the scrutinizing looks of his
brothers, I suspected that I had consulted with them. Also Diacon and the
Mrs. Thomas. Nat had a private meeting with his parents after dinner, at
the one I was luckily not invited to. I did my evening chores, ran to my room and
I locked the door, needing the comfort of my letters and the clarity that
it provided me to write my thoughts.
I was as honest as I could be in my evaluations, dissecting the attributes.
of each brother down to the smallest detail, but when I finished, I did not feel
closer to a preference than when I started. On paper, Nathaniel was the
more logical. He was the oldest. He was also handsome, hardworking, and the most willing to
to commit. And he had kissed me.
But I wasn't sure that Nathaniel and I fit together. I always tried to
that I would remain still, and stillness was not in my nature. Nathaniel could
make me unhappy. Worse still, I could make him unhappy.
Benjamin had his own stillness and did not try to force it. He simply
I moved with him, making it easy to be around him. I liked that about him and
I wondered if I should ask him to kiss me so I could make a comparison.
complete. That thought attracted me, and I made a note to find a
a moment alone with him. Of course, if it made Benjamin unhappy, he would never say it, and
that was also unacceptable.
I couldn't imagine kissing Francis or Edward or Elijah. I thought that
it could be a crucial piece, although I could easily list its points
strong and weak. Thinking about kissing Phineas made me laugh. We would argue about
who kissed better and we would end up in some kind of fight to
to resolve it.
My laughter sounded a bit like a sob, I set aside the list and started a letter to
Elizabeth. She needed the advice of a woman, a woman who wasn't the lady.
Thomas, who would not be able to see my dilemma clearly. She was his mother, and
Nathaniel, especially, was the apple of his eye.
 Elizabeth had once told me about her relationship with John. —I never doubted.
not even a moment of him. We were young, but he was so handsome and so confident in himself.
same, but without the bragging or arrogance of the other Yale guys.
They had married when he was twenty and she was seventeen, and for her
It had been an easy decision. For me, it would not be. I would still not be seventeen years old,
and maybe that was the only difference. But I didn't believe it that way.

When a soft knock interrupted my musings, I ignored it, pretending to be

asleep. I still had not recovered from the interaction with Nathaniel and feared that
out he.
I can see the candle flickering under the door, Rob. I know you're awake.
—It was Phineas. I got up, leaving the letter I was writing to
Elizabeth, and I opened the door.

His hair was messy and his shirt was unbuttoned, and his appearance was so
unfortunate like mine. Without saying a word, he gave me my cap. It was dirty and the
volante roto, y al mirarla me sentí aún más desolada.
I'm sorry, she said. Can you fix it?
Of course.
You can fix anything, right, Rob?
I wasn't sure I could fix the new discomfort between us. I
She was getting angry and blaming Nathaniel. It was another mark against him.

I said some tired good nights to Phineas and made a gesture to close the
door, but he stopped me with a foot placed in the opening.
Let's run,
I'll even let you win.

I was left speechless, although I considered it right away. —It's dark, we

You will get both of them in trouble, and I don't want you to let me win, Phineas Thomas.

A ghost of a smile slid across his lips. —I know.

We studied each other for a moment, still uneasy and uncertain. Then he
He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. 'Are you going to let Nat win?' his voice
he had become slightly belligerent, but that was Phineas too.
 Elizabeth's old advice came to my mind. - You must let the
brothers win sometimes, just to cheer them up. I find that men are more
prone to let us play if they believe they will succeed.
But he didn't want to encourage Nat. He didn't want to encourage Phineas either, although he still
I wasn't sure that was what I wanted from me.
I didn't even know we were competing,
No... me neither.
I prefer that things stay as they are, I pleaded with him.

He nodded slowly. — That can't happen if you let Nat win. Everything
will change.
It's not a competition, Phineas.

He smiled satisfied. —Of course.

Suddenly I felt exhausted. —No. It's my life. And I don't know how many perspectives
I have. I have to consider them all.
Just wait, Rob. Wait. I'm not ready yet. Nat is right about that. But
wait for me.
-For how long?
I have to leave here. I don't want to be a farmer. I want to see the world. Climb.
some mountains. Kill some redcoats — he smiled again.
— It seems that I am going to wait a long time — there was no sting in my
words, but it withered a little.
I would take you with me if I could,
I know you would —and what an adventure it would be.

I will come back for you, Rob. If you wait for me... I will come back,

In the candlelight, her face appeared tender, and I reached out my hand and...
I touched her cheek. It was still soft, like mine, and speaking like that was so fanciful.
like fairies and Lilliputians. She had a life to live and I wanted her to
viviera.
 Don't worry about me, Phineas Thomas. Start running and don't stop.
never. If I were you, that's what I would do.

15 de junio de 1775
Dear Elizabeth,
It's strange to think of you in a different place. When I imagine you, it's in a
great street of Farmington, writing to me from rooms so different from the
that I need. But now you are in Lenox, on the edge of the border, and I feel envious.
How exciting it would be to step out the front door, turn west, and
simplemente seguir adelante. Ver cosas que nadie ha descrito aún, al menos no
with written words.
I don't know if I would have the courage to explore, yet it would call me. To separate from
everything that is familiar to me would be terrifying and at the same time stimulating. You have your
daughters and Mr. Paterson, but I have nothing that ties me to my home, nothing else.
that my servitude, and the moment will come when that will also end. I think about
that day with anxiety and fear at the same time; there are many ways one can be
tied.
Nathaniel, the eldest of the Thomas brothers, says he wants to get married.
with me, but when I think of marriage, I see my poor mother, the pain and the
vulnerability that their union brought, and I want something more. Something more. I would like to see
world and test my mettle. Go in search of something. Do something that no one has
done before.
I know they are not sensible dreams, but I keep having them. As Antonio says in
The Merchant of Venice: "I consider the world no more than as the world, a
a scenario in which each man must play a role. And mine is a sad one.
Do you think it's true that every man must play a role? Me
I would like a new one, if that's the case. But as Mrs. Thomas said, no one asks us.

I remain your most humble and grateful servant,

Deborah Samson
 My favorite moment of the day was the dawn, and most of the time,
when the weather and conditions permitted, I would go up to the hill
Mayflower -I had named it in honor of my ancestors- and I was watching the sun rise.
But the days started early on a farm, and I had already collected eggs,
pulled weeds from the garden, hung out the laundry, and helped the lady
Thomas put the breakfast on the table before I could even think about it.
slip away
I was beside myself, and so was she. The whole house was on edge, and she...
echó después del desayuno, diciéndome que no volviera hasta la cena para poder
to have a moment of peace
I had covered half the hill, advancing at a good pace, when I heard...
Jeremiah was asking me to wait for him.
-Rob! Wait for me. I'm going with you - shouted Jerry. I wanted to be alone, and Jerry did
I liked to chat, but I found a seat and settled down, waiting for me to
will reach.
He fell beside me, even though we still had half a slope to climb.
I let myself rest, suddenly without hurry to reach my destination. I hadn't slept.
Well. I had dreamed of Dorothy May Bradford being dragged towards the
depths, her skirts wrapped around my legs, her despair
filling my chest.
If this were the whole world you would come to see... only the view from this
hill, would it be enough? —I asked Jerry.
I suppose. It's a pretty good view.
It was. It was a spectacular view, and the pressure in my lungs eased.
it would be fine if I never saw another.
It's beautiful. Looking at it, I can imagine what it feels like to fall in love.
Thought made my throat hurt. I never thought I would feel this way.
That because of Nathaniel. Now I could admit it, with a little perspective.
 Jeremiah frowned at me. - I don't like it when you say things like that. No
You sound like Rob.
What do I dream of?

You sound like a girl.

Well, I am one. And there is nothing else that makes me feel this way. Just look at it,
Jerry.
I am looking.
In some of my dreams, I drown, I said. But in some of my...
dreams I can fly. I rise above the earth, I contemplate fields and forests, rivers
that traverse the land and waters, that hit the shore.
Do you have wings?

No. I just... rise. The air does not whistle around me. It costs me nothing.
effort. And I am not afraid of falling. I see the farms, the trees, and the sky. A
sometimes I fly to Boston, following the road below me, although I
I move much faster than a horse or even a bird. Then I see
the boats in the harbor, sails of all heights and sizes, and the air smells of
brine and fish. I fly higher so that they don't see me. There is nothing behind it.
to hide and my skirts wave around me. I'm worried that someone
looked up and saw me floating.
-And to look directly above your skirts.
Yes... they will call me a witch and shoot me down with cannon fire. So I fly higher.
and faster, inward, although I have lost my sense of direction. No
I recognize neither the land nor the hills I have underneath. I fly in one direction and then
in another, trying to find the way back here, to this hill from which
I left, but I can't.
Are you scared?
I always wake up cold and terrified. And yet... I still want
to fly.
I want to sail. One day I will get on a boat. I will catch whales. You can
come with me if you want. You can be my cook.
I don't want to be your cook, Jeremiah.
 Well, you can't be the captain.
I thought about it. —I could if I set my mind to it.

The sailors would throw you overboard. Nobody likes to take orders from
a girl unless she is her mother. That's why Nat gets so angry with you.
You are always telling everyone what they have to do.
I don't want to be in charge of anyone but myself - that was what
more than anything in the world, I did not want to be responsible for anyone other than myself.
But if you captain a ship someday, Jer, I wouldn't mind going sailing.
A distant explosion began, and we sat, with our eyes fixed on the sound.
despite the fact that Boston was thirty miles away.
"Do you hear that?" I asked.

What do I hear? Jerry grumbled. He didn't like climbing as much as I did and
I was willing to go down again. I grabbed his arm and made him quiet. The sound
it rang again, like thunder in the sky, but the air did not smell of dampness and the sun
burned high up.
It's going to rain and we're up here,
hunger. Give me that apple.
I imitated the sound, bursting the air between my lips, so weak, so distant,
And suddenly I knew. —It's a cannon shot, Jerry. It's a cannon shot!

It's not! You've never heard cannons, Rob.

I had started running, climbing to the top to see even more.
far away. Jerry was not very far. He knew I was right. We watched as the smoke
was raised towards the sky of June.

Do you think that comes from Boston? he asked, astonished.

—Yes. I know. It's... happening.

It was the beginning. It was not just a skirmish or a protest or throwing tea at
port. They were not the pamphlets and speeches, practice exercises in the meadows of the
city. It wasn't even a skirmish in the woods. They were cannons. Ships of
war. Thousands injured. Hundreds dead.
It was war.
 I slept fitfully for several days. Anyone would say that I had seen the
battle up close and not from a green hill fifty kilometers away.
The sounds of battle followed me in dreams and became mocking voices
they urged me to join the fight. I did not believe that dreams came from God.
They were too much in my own mind and heart to blame Him or
the glory.
But the rise and the roar of the warships and the cannons had
something awakened in me, and I was not the only one. We were all caught in the tide.
That's what it looked like: a great wave that swept us out to the sea of the
revolution.
I think all the young people felt the calling. I felt it too. More than
Nothing, it was a call to adventure, to heroism, and no one wanted to miss it.
They called it a Pyrrhic victory for the Crown, which meant that it had
the objective was achieved, but there had been great losses in the process. The
Americans had built a stronghold and other minor fortifications in
the hills that overlooked the harbor on the Charlestown side. The British
they were vastly superior in number, in addition to having gunboats, and ordered to
his men climb the hill in a frontal assault. It wasn't until after the
third wave and many British deaths when the colonials were out of ammunition
they abandoned the stronghold and retreated over the other side of the hill
Breed. British losses were over a thousand men killed or wounded.
including one hundred officers. The colonial forces lost less than half, but
among the fallen was Dr. Joseph Warren, one of the famous Sons of the
Freedom. From one night to the next, their name became a battle cry.
Nathaniel, Benjamin, and Phineas set out for Boston with a local regiment.
of a hundred men just after the battle of Breed's Hill. John, the husband of
Elizabeth was already in Boston. She had gathered a militia from Lenox after
Lexington and Concord, and arrived, ready to serve, the next day. Elizabeth wrote
about his fervor, and she seemed to share it, although she assumed that he would return to the
a few days ago.
 He didn't do it. None of the men did it. John Paterson was elected captain.
for his regiment and then appointed colonel a few days after his arrival.
Nathaniel left without me responding to him. He had been right. I had...
the time was up and, although I knew that I didn't love him and that I wouldn't marry him
when I returned home, I was grateful not to have been forced to declare myself, of a
one way or another.

It's better this way. You are too young, and it wasn't fair of me to speak.
I had admitted. —But I haven't changed my mind, and I can wait for you.
you decide.
Will you write to us, Nathaniel?
I'm not good at that, Rob, but you have to write to me - your use of my nickname makes me
made me smile. I didn't care much Deborah on Nat's lips. It felt
like a corset that is too tight.
But I will be back before you realize it,
I will not return until all the redcoats have been expelled from
Boston. And perhaps not even then —Phineas said, giving me a glance of
sorry.
Benjamín simply gave me a smile and patted me on the back.
shoulder, and the three of them left amidst hugs and tears.
General Washington took command of all colonial forces in July,
and Jacob slipped away in August, telling Margaret, the girl he was planning to
to marry, that he would return when the conflict ended.

Autumn arrived, and Elizabeth reported that the men who had enlisted
hastily in spring they were poorly prepared for the service in
winter, and Mrs. Thomas and I worked feverishly to card and spin the
wool from the Thomas' flock and then knit two dozen blankets. I came to be
so quick on the loom that the village commissioned me to produce the fabric for a hundred
. and I set up my operation in a room at Sproat's tavern,
accepting donations of carded wool for the soldiers. She spun and knitted during
long hours until well into the night and rode back on the old mare to
house in the dark to be able to fulfill my obligations at home.
 The days passed blurry, the clap, clack of the loom and the buzzing of the spindle me
they accompanied me in winter and pushed me towards spring, hoping
news that never arrived.
So, on March 17, 1776, General William Howe, commander of
the British forces occupying Boston boarded a ship and evacuated the city,
ending the siege that had lasted nearly a year. Washington and his army
they had managed, in the middle of the night and in the midst of a storm, to set up cannons
at Dorchester Heights, the highest point of the harbor, and direct them against the ships
of British warships anchored below. It was an astounding victory, and the reverend
Conant brought us the news of victory with a bottle of wine and the absolute
conviction that the conflict would end soon.
They had to take the cannons to the heights, but the ground was frozen, so
that digging trenches was impossible. The old Put -that’s what the men called him
General Putnam devised a plan to build the fortifications in sections.
Then they ascended the sections up the hills, silent as church mice.
They even placed hay bales between the road and the port so that it wouldn't be heard.
the noise. Building parapets and transporting cannons is not silent. Nor is it
There are two thousand five hundred soldiers. Even so, by 4:00 a.m., they had achieved it. The
General Howe said that the rebels had done more in one night than all of his
army in a month.
Deacon Thomas gave a triumphant slap on the table and Mrs. Thomas
he began to cry with pride and joy, but Sylvanus had not finished.
The general also agreed not to burn the city if his men could.
leave without being disturbed —she raised her hands, triumphant. —They have left.

Will you return to England? I asked. Is it over?

Not entirely. The British forces that were in Boston have taken refuge.
temporarily in Nova Scotia, but they have lost control of the ports of
New England. General Washington is heading to New York. Some think
that the British will attack there next.
Phineas said he would not return home until all the redcoats had
they were expelled from Boston, and that had just been achieved.

But Phineas didn't come home.

Nat, Benjamín, and Jacob also did not return home.
 We expected them in June; they had signed up for a one-year enlistment afterward.
from Bunker Hill. Instead, encouraged by the end of the siege of Boston, they returned to
to get ready, and Elijah and Edward joined them, reducing the number to four
brothers who remained at home. The deacon's shoulders began to slump, and the
Mrs. Thomas fell silent and turned gray. Six of her children had gone.
seduced by a revolution that had become much more difficult and much
less exciting.
I kept working and waiting, although I didn't know for what.
 Chapter 5

FROM THE EARTH

In the first months of 1776, it was widely distributed across the colonies.
a pamphlet that I read and reread with paper and pen in hand. Written by an anonymous author,
It was titled Common Sense, and it called for not only a
reparation against England, but rather independence.
The pamphlet was too long for the newspapers to print and
too long to be nailed to a tree, but Sylvanus Conant read parts in
loud voice from the pulpit, although some whistled when he said 'independence' and
A few got up and left.
"Independence" was not a word that had been considered, and it was a step.
too far for many. However, the word became a cry of
war.
Not everyone agreed with the war. In fact, those in favor did not
they were more than a scarce majority, even in Middleborough and its surroundings,
where a hundred children from the area had marched to join George
Washington in the last year and constantly more were going.

Betrayal became a common attack, and those who wanted to remain

under the flag of England they had started to call themselves loyalists,
as if those who disagreed were guilty of yet another offense
deep, even from a flaw in their characters.
Who are they loyal to? To a king and a flag? I think it is better to be loyal
to their own compatriots —murmured Deacon Thomas.
I wrote to Elizabeth, full of questions and comments, and she replied to me with
with his usual composure, promising that he would share my thoughts with John in
his next letter and I would ask for his opinion.
 A few months later, I received a stained and dirty letter with a pen.
wax seal and Colonel J. Paterson, 26th Regiment, in the corner. I broke it with
careful, amazed that a letter had reached me; we had not received
Nothing from the brothers. They were nothing more than a few paragraphs, with brief responses and
clear about the questions I had asked Elizabeth, but ended with this:
We need to convince people. Convince them. The leaflet is nothing more than a
precursor, a softening of the population towards these ideas, but it is powerful.
The man who wrote it could not have offered stronger arguments.
The author of the pamphlet remained unknown, at least to the general public.
public, and I had harbored secret fantasies that it had been written by a
woman. For someone like me. And why not? A woman could hide behind
from an anonymous signature as well as a man. The author intrigued me almost as much
like the leaflet itself.
But John Paterson proved to be right. By the end of that summer, the
Continental Congress, in a written declaration by Thomas Jefferson of
Virginia declared the united colonies 'free and independent states.'
I wrote directly to Mr. Paterson, saving poor Elizabeth from my
idealist ramblings.

14 de agosto de 1776
Dear Colonel Paterson,
I have started to record the beauty that is free: the smell of the earth, the colors
from the sky at dawn and at sunset, the tranquility of the morning, the chirping of the
birds, the sound of water falling. Many of the most wonderful things are at
the reach of all and they comfort me.

But nothing has given me more comfort or hope than the words of the
declaration that has just been published. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I have
repeat these words until they merge into a new language, and each step
What I give resonates with its rhythm. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Never
some words have penetrated deeper or lifted me higher. Because, ?
What is life worth without freedom, and what is freedom worth without the pursuit?

Do you think it refers to all men? And women too? All the
humanity? Because either it is true for all, or it is true for none. To a
man cannot be given 'certain inalienable rights' and then say that only
inalienable for some. Reverend Conant says that 'inalienable'
it means that they are not granted by man but by God, by the nature of
our mere existence.
It is something to reflect on and that fills me with hope and purpose. The
signers pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to the
declaration. I have no fortune, and my life has never been mine, but I would promise it
if I could.
I remain, dear Mr. Paterson, your humble servant,
Deborah Samson

Francis enlisted in January '77 after the news of the battles of Trenton and
Princeton. General Washington had crossed the Delaware in the middle of the night, with
hail and snow, no less than on Christmas Day, and it had surprised the
Hessians. Next, Lord Cornwallis was defeated and the
hope. Francis could no longer resist.
I went with him to the house of Reverend Calder, of the Third Baptist Church, where the
the leader of the ranks gathered the locals, and a month later we saw him march. Everyone
we knew that he/she would leave.

The day David and Daniel left, they didn't tell their mother or father;
They begged me to do it for them.
I can't - I protested, vehemently. Sad. - You always want me to
Let them cover... to do their tasks. But this is one that I will not do.

You're not going to try to stop us, are you, Rob?

No. I would go too. If I could, I would go too. But you have to tell him.
same. At least leave a letter.
We don't write like you. You will tell them, and you will also take care of them. You
You will take care of them, right? —David asked. He had always had a heart
softer.
 I nodded, although I couldn't promise it. She was not a daughter, and my servitude
would come to an end. I would not be tied by a contract nor by blood, and the need
the urge to flee was growing in my belly. I also wanted to leave.

Your bail will soon be lifted. You will be eighteen years old. Do you think you could
"Are you getting married?" Sylvanus Conant asked me a week after the meetings.
He had gone out to the sun to visit his parishioners and in the end, he turned to me, as he used to.
do it.

—Marry me? With whom? Everyone has gone to war. And I am taller than
the boys and the old ones that remain —I said.

—Yes. As tall as I am —she marveled. —When did that happen?

At fourteen, he was almost 30 centimeters taller than the tiny lady.
Thomas, who at five feet tall was shorter than the average woman,
but not so much. I wasn't normal at all, at least in height, but Sylvanus
Conant had shrunk recently.
I don't want to belittle my husband,
So find a man of stature.
Psalm [Link] "God places the solitary in families; He brings out those who are...
bound with chains; but the rebels dwell in dry land" —I said. —I am
lonely, tied and rebellious. I'm afraid it's dry land for me.
We should compare the scriptures, Deborah, but you have never been
"Chained," said Reverend Conant, although he chuckled under his breath at me.
application of the text. —You are a woman of great fortune —he added.

My eyebrows raised under my cap, and he corrected his words. —You are a
woman of granvalía, and I assure you that the Thomases would feel hurt if they heard you
to dismiss them in that way.

—Surely yes —I accepted.

 Her brow was furrowed and her blue eyes worried as she continued.
You have been a great joy for me. I don't have daughters of my own, but in my heart I
I claimed you from the first time I saw you. You looked like a colt, with big eyes and long...
extremities, so eager to please, so precocious and precious. You deserved something
more than to Mrs. Thatcher, no matter how much affection I had for the old widow. Not
She has missed a lot, hasn't she, Deborah?
I haven't missed her at all, I said frankly. The reverend
Conant laughed again. He never seemed to care about the irreverence that came to me.
it escaped from the tongue. I had always valued honesty more than the
Correction. Perhaps it was partly his fault that I was the way I was.
She was tough and... she seemed to be searching for the right word. Jealous.

"Jealous?" I gasped.

The widow Thatcher was old. Her life was about to end. You were
young, with boundless energy and a mind not clouded by age and the
suffering.
I suffered a lot.

He frowned and the furrow between his eyes deepened. He looked old,
I suddenly realized, and its color was dull.
But you have been happy here, right? With the Thomases? - she asked again.
Mrs. Thomas tells me that there is nothing you can't do. Plants,
you build, you cook, you sew. The young Jeremiah says you are a better shooter than
all the brothers.
There is a lot I can't do - I sighed. - But I have little control over
That sounded bitter, which was not like me. I did not complain. And even less
before the Reverend Sylvanus Conant, who had been my true friend and
defender. —If I am skilled or have any achievement, it is because you believed in me —I said,
moderating the tone.
You needed so little stimulus,
However, you gave it to me abundantly, I replied, with a knot in my throat.
throat. It was so dear to me.
Calm an old man, child - he pleaded. - Tell me that I haven't let you down.
 Never. Not a single time. I would have memorized the whole Bible if you had.
order.
You almost did it.
And I have a new recitation to share, I said.
Ah, really? And what is that? The Book of Revelation or maybe all of Hamlet?
he was pulling my leg, but I had memorized the Divine Assembly to
to receive a pat on the head and a bit of praise.
Did you read the statement?
I have done it.
And what did you think? I asked, impatiently.

Their eyes shine. —I haven't formed any firm opinion. Remind me of it.
what does it say.

It had always been like this, encouraging my education in any of its forms, and
so full of admiration when learning something new.
When in the course of human events...
seriousness, and he remained silent while I spoke the words, with my
voice sounding as hers had sounded from the pulpit an hour earlier.

One Sunday, Reverend Conant did not attend the meetings. The congregation
they gathered in a row in a church that was ominously empty. After fifteen
minutes of impatient waiting, Deacon Thomas was sent to check on them
rooms to see what had delayed him. He was lying next to his bed,
still wearing the nightgown and cap. Deacon Thomas said it looked like
as if he had knelt to pray and his heart had failed him. The town
he lamented his loss, but no one but me. I wrote to Elizabeth about her
death
I have lost my best friend and protector. I can't imagine my life without him.
It was your uncle, and I should send you my condolences, but I myself am inconsolable.
I know I shouldn't complain when so many have died and while your beloved John...
He is in danger, but I loved the reverend and he is gone, and I can't understand it.
Who will listen to my recitations and marvel at my wit? Who will me
Will it challenge without censorship? And how will I be able to attend another Sunday sermon?

The Thomases have said that I must continue attending, that Sylvanus would wish my
presence, but I can't stand it, and if the dead can see us, I hope that
can you forgive me.
It was never loyalty to the Church that made me move forward, but loyalty.
to him. He loved God, so I did too, although I'm not sure that God is
in the churches. Last Saturday I attended the meetings of the Third Church
Bautista, just to see if He was there. Maybe He peeked through the windows, but no
I felt it. At least I didn't feel pain for my friend, so I might go back.
The Baptists are delighted to have me, as if they had won me over to
His band. There are so few converts to fight for in Middleborough these days.
days. It makes me feel good to be loved, although I am sure that the attention
It will soon diminish, especially when they realize that I am not so obedient.
I am loyal as I appear now. My peculiarities will soon come to light and will
they will be glad to have never been one of them.

You make me realize the gift that you are, dear Elizabeth. All of these
Years you could have scolded me, embarrassed me or simply not have
answered. Instead, you have shared your life and your loves, your faith and your strength and,
above all, your warm acceptance. Of all the gifts your uncle gave me, the
Correspondence with you has been the greatest blessing in my life. I will always be
in debt to him.
I am, dear Elizabeth, with perfect consideration, your most obedient and very
humble servant,
Deborah Samson

Some men arrived home, delayed, with their feet wrapped in

rags and clothing torn to shreds, telling terrible stories. Their enlistment had
finished and they had already seen enough. It was too much to ask for a man with
a family abandoned by their absence would move forward. But many did.
they made.
News also arrived in shreds, snippets of battles, rumors of glory and
whispers of losses. And one day a rider approached with a letter sealed with wax and
Directed to the deacon and Mrs. Thomas. The rider did not smile or give drink to his
horse. He didn't want to stay.
Nathaniel was dead. Dead in a battle near Brandywine Creek.
A beautiful name for a terrible defeat.
A month later, the rider returned.
Elijah died in Germantown. Edward had died by his side.
The third time he came, the rider could not meet the gaze of the gentleman.
Thomas, and the deacon handed me the letter. - What son? - he whispered. - Which one now?

David, que se había preocupado por sus padres, había sucumbido a su

smallpox inoculation in a hospital in Philadelphia. I was wondering if Daniel would be
with him, and she prayed that Nathaniel, Elijah, and Edward would be there to welcome him.
final. Pennsylvania had claimed them all.
We had gotten used to their absence, and they remained absent, but now their
the absence was definitive. We tortured ourselves thinking about her suffering and not
we knew what to do with ours. We had no bodies to bury nor hands
cold to tighten. We had memories. A thorny kiss and a possibility. That
it was all that Nathaniel had given me, and it would never be anything more. I would never have
to reject him nor to fall into the temptation of accepting his offer.

It would have been so easy to do it. If I had gone home and laid down.
Man, I think I would have taken it. It may not have been the right thing, and it may
that I wouldn't have loved him as I suspected I was capable of loving. But I could.
to have taken her.

One. Two. Three. Four. All at once. We no longer believed that there would be five. Or
six, or all. Losses are not shared equally. I've learned that lesson well.
It is a lumpy porridge and a thin atole, and fate does not consider suffering.
of a mother and says: Maybe I'll forgive her this time.

There were many moments in our death season when I

I sat on my hill, contemplating the part of the world that I was allowed to see and
I begged God to hold back destiny. Destiny was cruel, but I didn't believe that
God would have it.

But destiny was not made, and God did not stop her.
 Chapter 6

THE STATION THE SAME

The day I turned eighteen, on December 17, 1777, was like the
anterior and the posterior. I had been waiting for it since they had tied me up to the
Thomas almost eight years earlier, thinking that he would have charted a course, a path
that would lead me to a life of my choice, where no one could hold me back and no one
I could control my steps. But freedom is not left or right, up or
down. It exists in degrees.

A bird has more freedom than a horse. A dog has more freedom than
a sheep, although it may depend on the value -or lack of value- of the animal. A
A man is freer than a woman, but only a few men are truly so.
free. Freedom requires health and money and even wisdom, and I had two of the
three things, but the day I turned eighteen I had no more freedom than before.
In fact, I cried bitterly against the pillow and wished for a little more time.
You must stay here, Deborah. You have earned a place with us for the
time you need, and I can't bear the idea of you leaving —said the lady
Thomas, and I gratefully accepted the pardon.

I have no place to go,

Death had immobilized me. It didn't help that my birthday fell on
mid-December, when the days were short and dark and spring was still far away
very far away. I had saved enough to buy a spinning wheel and a loom, and
I spent long hours in both, but I needed the sun on my face and had no way out.
for the overflowing energy that bubbled and sputtered during the lethargy of
winter. I cut more firewood than we could use and cleaned the entire corral of
snow. Jerry complained that it made him look bad, but without his brothers, there was
more work for everyone.
I received a letter from John Paterson. It was dated six months earlier. Before
that Sylvanus would die before David and Daniel left. Before. Before. Before.
But the day of my birthday will come, a day I had been waiting for
So many years and now she was crying, it seemed providential.

He had been appointed brigadier general. His name, rank, and the Camp
From Newburgh, there were writings on the wax seal. I had received my letter about
the statement, although that seemed to have happened a lifetime ago. I
I asked how long it had bounced through the inconsistent and besieged.
email to finally reach him. We had received a letter from Nat, the
only one we had received, when he had already left. My enthusiasm for the
Conversation, in light of everything that had been lost, had diminished.
considerably, but as I read, my passion was restored.
Elizabeth said that John had been sent to Canada with four brigades and
returned when the campaign was abandoned. His regiment had been devastated.
due to the disease and the exposure, and the six hundred men with whom he had
having left New York had been reduced by half when he met with the
General Lee just in time for the British to take Fort Washington and Lee
he was taken prisoner and then labeled a traitor. John Paterson should have been
a sense of desolation, but the letter did not contain a single word of complaint.

23 de junio de 1777
Dear Miss Samson,
We do not fight for the man who has it all and wants more, but for the man
that has nothing. Nowhere on earth can a man or a woman who
In certain circumstances, it is born to truly expect to escape from them.
Our fate is sealed from the moment we inhabit the womb of
our mothers, since we breathed. But maybe that can change here, in
this land.
Our lives are very short. Very little of what you or I do is
you will notice in this generation or even in the next. Your ancestors - what a pedigree
They stepped on this continent more than 150 years ago. We will never know what happened to them.
it cost to cross a sea in pursuit of a dream and yet, here we are.
What will life be like in 150 years? I suspect that our descendants
they will take us for granted, just as we take our ...
ancestors. No one will remember John Paterson when that moment comes.
Even the children of my children will not truly know me or understand what I dreamed,
but if God wills, they will reap the fruits of my efforts.
Many wonder what all this is for. I ask myself what it is for.
all this. And yet, that truth, the truth of the times, is that not
we act for ourselves. We are not building our lives, but the
lives of future generations. The United States will be a beacon for the world, it
I truly believe, but that beacon is lit with sacrifice.
You should go to Lenox, to the Paterson House. Elizabeth would welcome you. You
Call me sister. It's not Paris, but if you need a new frontier, you are
bienvenida en nuestra casa. Dos de mis hermanas y mi madre viven cerca -mi
Dear sister Ruth passed away last January - and it is a great comfort for
I hope they hold onto each other. As for me, I don't know when I will return.
I only know what I've gotten myself into and I only pray for the strength to keep going.

John Paterson, Brigadier General

It was such a beautiful and passionate speech that I wore it out by rereading it and
memorizing entire passages, constantly marveling at having received
similar communication. I suspected that it was not so much a letter for me as a
reminder to oneself, as if John Paterson needed to cheer himself up
in a moment of fragility. It was her declaration to the world, and I simply
I had the luck of reading it.

All the best young people had left, both the educated and the
ignorant, and Middleborough had no one to teach the lessons to the
children. When I found out about the position, I volunteered, the deacon and the lady
Thomas endorsed my skills.
He knows a large part of the Bible by heart, reads and writes like a
true scholar — testified Deacon Thomas, and they gave me the position, although
my remuneration was limited to the generosity of the families I served.
 We will consider the possibility of paying you more once you have demonstrated your
it was worth - said the local magistrate, and I accepted, although I never saw a single shilling from him
during the time I taught at the one-room school near the Third Church
Bautista.
We practiced the letters, made figures, and studied the maps that
we had. It wasn't a Yale education, but I did fairly well, and only
I had to direct my 'fearsome' gaze to the children and they did what they were told.
was mostly ordering.
I had inherited all the books from Reverend Conant and I was generous with
them, but the children -I was glad to see that there were almost as many girls as boys- did not
they were prepared for Shakespeare. Instead, I told them the stories,
reading parts and adding my own narration.
During recess, we would have arm wrestling and foot races, and I wouldn't let anyone win.
will surpass me. I wasn't worthy, but the boys were impressed and the girls
enchanted.
I dedicated a small part of our daily time to learn things.
various: tying knots and learning to sew and identifying the local flora and fauna. The
education went beyond reading and arithmetic. It was also about
to marvel and to become capable and useful people.
I told the children that they didn't have to enjoy or be good at everything,
although I felt like a true hypocrite, given that I had always
excellence demanded in all things. There were no tailored lessons or tasks just
to the boys or just to the girls. All my instruction was for all the children and,
Surprisingly, there was very little resistance, even from the parents.
Maybe they didn't expect much from a school teacher. Maybe they knew that
it was something temporary and that when the war was over and life 'returned to the
"normality" I would no longer be. But the "normality" changed and, although I was the
first teacher from Middleborough, doubted it would be the last. It was only necessary
that a person climbs a mountain or reaches a peak for others to
they would follow and seek new heights.

I wrote to Elizabeth:
Finally, I am going to school, a place that was denied to me for so long, and
I am ecstatic. I only attend a few hours a day during the winter months, and still
I can knit and help the Thomas family in the afternoons and in the mornings, before...
I started school.
Jeremiah is the oldest of my students, and it is a joy to have him there,
smiling at me from the back row. I don't know how long they will attend. They are looking forward to
join the fight and I have no doubt that when he comes of age, he will go as
they have done all the others, although I pray that he does not do it. I will throw him out
too little.
Teaching has helped me relieve my unease and has given me a
propósito. Me esfuerzo por ser una mujer de Proverbios 31, como tú, pero
Romans 12:2 I like the most: 'And do not be conformed to this century, but be transformed'
through the renewal of your mind.
I fear that I will settle for my small world forever, but perhaps
the limits are not as rigid or unforgiving as I believed. It will not surprise them that
I have fun pushing against them.
I think of you every day, my friend, and I pray for you, for your daughters and for your ...
Dear John. You must write to me and make sure that you are well.

Deborah

The summer of 1780 brought longer days and a trip to Plympton to see my
mother for the first time in the decade since my departure. She had
summoned, asking me to go see her, the deacon and Mrs. Thomas me
accompanied them there before continuing to Boston to see the brother of
deacon, whom they had not seen since before the siege that had destroyed the city in
the first days of the war.
My mother hadn't changed much, although the chestnut color of her hair
she wove with cane twigs and the furrows between the eyes and around the lips
they were more pronounced. He took my hands and looked me in the face, perhaps
looking for the girl she had been.
 You are very tall, he worried, and the grooves became deeper as
furrow the brow. It wasn't how I had imagined she would welcome me after
so long.
Y-yes.
I don't know if Mr. Crewe will approve it.

-Mr. Crewe?
—Our neighbor to the north. I have spoken to him about you. He is quite well-off, and
He is looking for a wife, Deborah.

Is that why... you told me to come? I asked.

—Yes. It is an opportunity for you. You are free from your shackles, and you have twenty.
Years. You must get married.

I believed he was helping me. I could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch.
anxious. Knowing it helped me keep my composure, although my stomach was
squeezed with disappointment and fear.

My aunt greeted me kindly, her husband did too, but they left us to
that we chatted at the small table set with a bit of butter and bread, and
slices of garden tomatoes. We ate in silence, strange to each other, and
she finally returned to the topic of Mr. Crewe.
You say you've told him everything about me. What have you told him? I asked,
lifting my eyes from my dinner.
Dudó, trapped. How could she talk to any man about me, to anyone.
To be? I knew so little. We had shared a handful of letters that consisted of
little more than the proof that we were still alive, the proof that we had not
succumbed to the fate of poor Dorothy May. My mother knew nothing of me.
I told her how capable you are. I have been aware of all your achievements. And Mrs.
Thomas tells me that you haven't been sick, not once. Your teeth are
strong and straight... your figure too. And you are a consummate weaver. Everyone
Bradford is one. I would dare to say that there is nothing he requires in a
a wife that you cannot give her.
But... what if it's not what I need in a husband?
 He winked at me. -You have surpassed the age at which you can be too
demanding, Deborah. And you could do much worse. It's not very attractive, although it
I think that good appearance is a curse. Your father was a very
handsome. We both suffer because of it.

I was too distracted by his last statement to be offended.

for the first. —Oh? How exactly did he suffer?
Her good appearance made her believe that she deserved more than life was giving her.
If it had been easy, perhaps I wouldn't have been so proud.
If he had been proud, he would not have abandoned his responsibilities.
replied.
He got lost at sea.

—Lost at sea? —I had never heard this part of the story. —I don't know
He drowned in the sea, mother. He abandoned us. Don't make excuses for him.

My sincerity seemed to stun her. —I was embarrassed —he murmured.

Was his shame more important to him than his family?
They scammed him out of his inheritance. That shattered him. He tried to make a living as
farmer, but he was made for great things.
-Big things?
He was so handsome and so intelligent. So gifted. It would have been a waste not to
chase more than what our circumstances offered. I had to try it,
no?
She was lying to herself. She couldn't decide if she had told the story so many times.
times when she believed it, or if it was simply better for her to be a widow than a
woman abandoned by her husband. She suspected it was so, and that made me angry with
her and with anyone who condemned her, as if his failures were her fault
suy. A widow still retained her dignity. A deserted wife did not.
--I wanted to see the world --he explained. --I wanted to explore.

—And you didn't do it? —I asked.

She was happy as if those things were ridiculous. — You are already grown up.
All healthy. All strong. My job is done — actually, there wasn't
answered the question, but I wouldn't do it. I had learned not to want things.
impossible.
I didn't want to hate my mother, but I didn't love her and I couldn't listen to her.
rationalizations. She had not raised me. She had not worked for my well-being. I
I had done it with my own sweat and my own work.
I got up, unable to tolerate his presence any longer. I had to
stay with her until the next day, when the deacon and the lady return
Thomas, but at that moment I decided that I would walk back to Middleborough if
It was necessary. He was wearing sturdy shoes.
--Your sister, Sylvia, had another baby. Now she has four-- she said in a hurry,
seeing that I was ready to flee. —Write that everyone is healthy and strong.
I'm glad you're well, I whispered. I hoped you would be. You lived in
Pennsylvania. I hadn't seen her -or any of my siblings- since I was
five years. I couldn't even evoke his/her face.
All my children are well. That has been my only goal.
I wanted justice -justice for her, justice for me-, but when I looked at her, triumph prevailed.
mercy. It was true. She was right. I was fine. I was healthy and strong, and
había crecido, tal como ella había dicho. Con cinco hijos pequeños y sin forma de
to keep them, he must have feared that day would never come.
He returned... for a while, just after you moved in with the
Thomas added. He asked about all of you. Where you were and if you were okay.
Pensé que se quedaría. Pero no se quedó. Y no lo he vuelto a ver.
Did you let him back? Did you take him into your bed with your arms that
In the past, had they supported their scattered and discarded children?

Of course I did. It was everything I ever wanted.

view of its seam.

—Why? —the word was almost a lament.

—Because it would mean that you could come back —he said softly.
I sank back into the chair I had left empty, embarrassed and
Heartbroken. My mother had given me everything she had. And I got angry because I didn't
could give me more.
 "Why did you teach me to read?" I asked him. "I was very young, and you..."
You must have had many other things that demanded your time and attention.

I just did nothing. I taught the older children, and you learned very
fast.

I inhaled deeply and let it go. —Thank you.

The surprise was drawn on his face. He didn't expect her to say something like that.

William Bradford believed that all men and women should be able to read.
the word of God for themselves —he said.
Yes. I know. You have always been so proud of your lineage.

His back straightened and he raised his chin. —Ours is a tree with roots
strong and robust branches, full of freedom-loving people.
I was wondering what strong roots and robust branches were for if
I was never given the opportunity to grow or bloom.
William Bradford arrived in this land more than a century ago, continued my
mother, her voice still filled with pride. —The pact that those separatists
they acted as a people, it became the basis of the war we fight now. It is
the war of God. His plan and His time. And it began with them.

I thought of my dream, the one in which I flew above the earth and time.
it stretched beneath my feet. Nothing before, nothing after, all one, eternal now.
I imagined that this is how God observed the world, moving the pieces and
painting the scenes, forward and backward.
I consider the world only as the world, a stage on which each
"A man must play a role. And mine is sad" —I quoted. How many times had
thought about that phrase?

My mother looked at me with her head tilted. —All the papers are sad,
Deborah. And rarely one chosen by us.
I can't discuss it.
 Milford Crewe was a tiny man who must have looked old even
when he wasn't. He was bald on top and tried to compensate for it
letting their hair grow long and brushing their shoulders with silvery blonde curls.
He took off his wide-brimmed hat from his head and made me a small bow.
with one hand on the hip and the other in front, as if we were going to dance the minuet. It is
It's true that he wasn't very attractive, but what disgusted me most were his manners.

My mother had insisted on styling my hair, and two long curls hung down on each side.
side of the face, although the hairstyle did not favor my strong features at all and my
square jaw. I had learned that I looked better when tied up in a
wide and thick braid or carefully wrapped around the head underneath
the cap. Everything else resembled a Christmas goose with a ribbon
around the neck.
As I introduced myself, Milford Crewe walked around me as if he were
inspecting a cow, even pulled on the strings of my cap as if desiring
that will take it away from me.

Your eyes have a strange tone, don't they?

I felt my lip starting to curl into a grimace and I sucked it between my teeth.
teeth. —I don't know. What color should they be, Mr. Crewe?
Blue, green, or brown would be fine. All three, from what I can see.

Yes, well. I am temperamental. Hard to please. I doubt that I am a

good wife.
I don't know anything about that,
Yes, I want to.

You are tall.

Yes. I am. And you are not.

He protruded his jaw and furrowed his brow. He resembled a bit the billy goat of
Deacon Thomas. I almost expected him to let out an impatient cry. What a pair.
we would form. A goose and a goat, touching each other's beak and bleating at each other,
completely unadapted and forced to share the pen.
He claimed that he was neither a loyalist nor a patriot, and for me that was
unacceptable.
 When all is said and done, we will have nothing but blood and debts.
what to show for our efforts. I am a pragmatic man, and this war
It never made sense to me —he shrugged. —But the kids must
learn.
Mr. Crewe stayed chatting with my mother all afternoon and
considering me. He would ask me questions just to look away or to get impatient.
when I gave something more than a simple answer, and my mother became desperate
more and more for me.
When the Thomases arrived, the wagon wheels indicated that they
they were getting closer. I practically jumped to the door, but my mother stood guard,
trying to avoid the inevitable.
Unfortunately, he asked me if he could see me again, and nothing I told him...
I was able to dissuade him.

The journey back home was painful. We traveled the same road to
Plympton to Middleborough where Reverend Conant and I had traveled a
a decade before, but I was no longer the same. I no longer cried over the loss of my mother nor
I was afraid of the people beside me, but I was also devastated.
You're very quiet, Deborah.
I do not wish to speak above the noise.
What did you think of Mr. Crewe? He seemed very taken with you, said the
Mrs. Thomas.
I wasn't doing it - I was sure of that. Whatever it was, it didn't have me.
no sympathy. One might think that his charity would benefit him, but it did not.
admiration in their eyes.

—Es tan bueno como cualquier hombre —dijo la señora Thomas, con los ojos
observing the field. I could only look at her, stunned.
--Really? --what a pathetic thought. He wasn't even half a man.
That Reverend Conant. Or Deacon Thomas. Milford Crewe did not have the
Nathaniel's trust, neither Benjamin's peace, nor Phin's passion, nor the sweetness of
Jeremiah. I couldn't think of anything about him that I liked.

I would rather sleep with the pigs, I said.

Mrs. Thomas gasped and the deacon looked at me as if I had spoken in
languages. I bowed my head, regretful. I didn’t mean to seem rude. Just sincere.
Only vehement. I would prefer to walk naked through the town square than
undress in front of that man. He knew how children were made. He knew
that men liked the process and that women did not. I thought I could
enjoy it, but not with Mr. Crewe. Not with him.
-But... will you let him see you again? -he looked at me strangely and did not
I was able to understand their thoughts.

I sighed. —I do not wish to see him again.

He has offered me to buy the fields that I cannot cultivate and build nearby.
said the deacon. It's a good offer. You must allow him to present his
arguments —it seemed like an order, and it hung in the air, so discordant
like the squeak of the wheels. Once again, I was left speechless.

I would have liked you to stay in the family. But this way you will be.
Look. And now that Nathaniel is gone —murmured Mrs. Thomas. —You must
choose again. It's time, Deborah.
I didn't have the courage to tell him that, even if Nathaniel had lived, he could not.
to imagine myself as a wife. And if not with Nat, definitely not with Milford Crewe.

I would have liked to stay in the family too, I said, and that is true.
that was sincere. I left the rest of my thoughts unexpressed.
 Chapter 7

THE LAWS OF NATURE

Death has a way of stripping us of our inhibitions and our

excuses. I had lost so many in such a short time, but Jeremiah didn't die...
he simply left. His height had held him back until now - a soldier had
measuring 1.65 meters- and Jerry was too short. But the summer before
that he turned seventeen and I twenty-one, grew five centimeters, gained weight
five kilos and immediately registered on the enlistment lists. I begged him to
It will remain, if not for the deacon and Mrs. Thomas, for me.

Please, don't go, Jerry.

You would go if you were me, he replied. He couldn't deny it, and he knew it.

If you go, I go with you, I threatened.

—Oh, Rob —he laughed and shook his head. —You would be a good soldier. A good
sailor too. I'm sure of it. But they won't accept you.
I swear. If you leave, I will follow you. Have you heard about the woman in the battle of
Monmouth. He loaded the cannon when her husband fell ill. A cannonball hit him.
It struck her right between the knees. It blew off her petticoat, but she suffered not a scratch.
She did not falter either - the stories about that woman had spread, although
nobody seemed to know her name. There were other stories of wives who had
followed their husbands to war, and I was convinced that I could too.
do it.
You don't have a husband, and no one will let you get near a cannon, Rob. And you can't.
make me stay. I want to be a sailor. I may be the youngest and the most
Small, but I am big enough, and I will always wonder if I don't go.
I will ask myself and I will be embarrassed. You don't understand it, because you are a girl, and
no one expects it from you.
 How are we going to take care of each other if you leave? I argued,
desperate to convince him.
How am I going to face myself if I stay?
The year 1780 turned into 1781, and as soon as the snow started to
thawing, Jeremiah headed to Philadelphia to join the merchant marines
that had their headquarters there, with strong shoulders and a confident gaze.
El día que se fue de casa, la Sra. Thomas se fue a la cama y se negó a
to get up.
I gave birth to ten healthy children - she cried. - I never had any difficulty to
to take them, not even the twins. I also had easy births. Many women
They suffered terribly. I didn't. I was made to bear children. You wouldn't think so.
because I am small, but it was easy for me. Raising them was another thing, but I never
I complained because I had been very blessed. I thought I was very lucky, but now
I ask myself. I can't help but think it would hurt less if I never did them.
I would have loved.

Deacon Thomas would go out among his animals, to the fields he farmed alone, and
I used to wash and spin and cut wood, and I forced both of them to eat, and when not
I found something else to occupy my time - the school season was coming to an end.
I was writing to Elizabeth and also to John, although neither of them had
It had been at least six months.
Two letters, one for me and another for the Thomases, arrived in early April.
One era of John Paterson and the other of Benjamin. I kept the letter in the
bra for later and convinced Mrs. Thomas to come out of her
room to read the one that was addressed to her.
She made her husband read it first, even though I told her it was written by
written in the hand of Ben and that it was undoubtedly good news.

The deacon read it once, in silence, with trembling hands, and then returned.
to read it out loud to Mrs. Thomas and me.
We have overcome the worst winter we have ever experienced. But our
The enlistment ends next month, and Jacob and I are pleased to have
fulfilled our part. The news from our brothers has saddened us to
Both. Enough blood has already been shed Thomas.
 I don't think the war will continue much longer, and certainly not in the
northern colonies. Most of the action has shifted to the south, although the
the betrayal of Benedict Arnold and the hanging of poor Commander André us
They made us fear an attack here in Point. We have spent these months locked up.
doing little more than shivering, starving, and waiting for orders. We will be home.
in time for planting. Don't let Rob do everything before we arrive.
They are coming home again,
The deacon nodded, with trembling lips and bright eyes. He placed the
hat on his head and retreated to the backyard, as he needed a bit of
intimacy to recover. Mrs. Thomas hurried, perked up, and began to
prepare dinner as if Jacob and Ben were going to arrive at any moment.
I kept John Paterson's letter inside the pocket of my dress,
disfrutando de la anticipación de más buenas noticias, y no volví a sacarla hasta
that we had finished the afternoon meal and sat down in a pleasant manner
silence around the table, Deacon Thomas reading his Bible and the lady
Thomas was carding wool. I took out my letter and carefully broke the seal. The lady
Thomas looked up interested when I unfolded it.
What do you have there, Deborah?

It's from General Paterson. I haven't heard anything from him or Elizabeth for a long time.
--I explained. --He arrived earlier, with Benjamin's letter.

Please be so kind as to maintain correspondence after all this.

years —he said something else and I think I nodded, but I was no longer listening.

He/She was no longer breathing.

Ice and fire waged war in my chest, and I read the brief message three times,
then I read it again, looking for the lie.
I had never met Elizabeth Paterson in person, but she had been my
dear friend. In every way, she gave me comfort and joy. For almost
a decade, it had never rejected me and had never failed me.
And he/she left.

I rested my head on the letter, unable to move it away, unable to deny the
words, even if I tried to hide them. When I closed my eyes, I could still see them in
my eyelids, John Paterson's oblique scribble like a line of ants
black, unperturbed.
10 de febrero de 1781
My dear Miss Samson,
I regret to inform you that Elizabeth passed away suddenly last month.
September. He hadn't been feeling well for some time, although he was good at it.
hide their ailments. Especially from me. I have been freed to attend to our
matters in Lenox. I know that Elizabeth and you had maintained a long
correspondence, and I regret to inform you of his death in such a sudden and
insensible, but I don't know another way. I am exhausted and I have little left
compassion. I loved you very much and had great hopes for your happiness.

My deepest respect,
John Paterson

Such a short letter.

What a blow.
I had no compassion either. Neither for poor John Paterson, nor for his children,
ni siquiera por la propia Elizabeth. En ese momento, me consumía la pena por mí
same. There was not a single soul left on earth. Not a solitary soul in which
trust or for which to live. No more letters. No hope. And nothing to wait for.

What's wrong, Deborah? asked Mrs. Thomas, cautiously.

—Elizabeth Paterson has died —my voice was muted.

She nodded, strangely, as if she had expected it. Of course, she did.
I was expecting. I was too familiar with the letters filled with bad news and
the visits that brought news of horror and tears. Both of us had
used to terrible things.

— Does your husband still serve under General Washington?

—he asked without taking his eyes off the wool.

—Says... says... that he has gone home, to Lenox.

As it should be. The war has lasted too long.
 He didn't say anything else, and the truth is that there was nothing more to say. I stayed
standing, with John Paterson's letter in hand, I thought for a moment that
I would enjoy watching it burn. I held it over the candle, the page fluttering between
my fingers.
I wouldn't receive another.

Neither Elizabeth nor her beloved John. I would have no reason to write.
I picked it up again, with the singed corner, and turned to my little one.
room.
I'm tired, I said, although it wasn't tiredness that was running through my veins.
I'm going to bed.
"Good evening, dear," Mrs. Thomas said softly.
Good evening, I said, even though it was only four o'clock. The day was gloomy and
dark, but it was still some time until bedtime.
There is a clarity that comes when one contemplates the past years from a
experience and age. Death, disappointment, and a heap of
desperation had brought me to the edge of the precipice. Now I see it, although I
wonderful to have jumped.
I took out the underwear and the shirt that one of the boys had discarded and
none of the others had claimed. They were not the same ones that made me agile and
free as the wind. They were not magical. I had overcome them. I loosened my dress and
I took it off, repeating the action with the underwear until I was left naked.
and trembling in the waning light that peeked through the small window.
I took off the hairpins and brushed my hair, looking at myself in the
small mirror that hung on the wall. My hair hung over the
waist and, when I styled it to shine and surround me, I felt like a
creature of the sea, unbound by fashion or social position. A mermaid or a
Greek goddess. I thought I could be beautiful like this, even though I wasn't soft or small.

And no one would ever know.

No one would ever see this version of Deborah. No one except my husband.
Milford Crewe wanted to be my husband. He seemed determined to do so, and I suspected that the
the sale of the lands of the deacon depended on my consent.
 "No!" I spat, startled. The brush fell to the ground.

—No —I said, but this time much more softly. —No. Him. Never.
My hair was my only vanity, but my braids also annoyed me. What of
What was beauty good for? She was as tall as most men who
I knew, like half of the Thomases I had grown up with. I had my mouth
broad, square jaw and sharp cheekbones. The protrusion of my nose
and the thickness of my eyebrows made me more beautiful than fine, although I wasn't sure
that I could boast of being attractive. Even my eyes, with their multiple colors,
they were stranger than charming.
I don't want to be a wife, I whispered. I don't want to be a woman.
the emotion rose and shattered, and my reflection turned into a watery stain.
I want to be a soldier.

Oh, really?

I rinsed my eyes, angry at my weakness, but my heart was beating with

strength. I did it.

"Why shouldn ’t I play the part?" I said, louder now.

When is it in my hands to do it?
My hair shone around my body, beckoning to me. I shouldn't have to
cut it all off for me. The men I knew had their hair tied back at the nape.
short haircuts. I had cut the boys' hair quite frequently.
He had also shaved their cheeks. Shaving was not something that many men did.
they will try without a good mirror, and often not even then. It was a skill
what was better to leave in the hands of a barber or a woman, and I had shaved
to all the Thomases, except for Jeremiah, who had no more beard than I did. There was
many boys with their faces uncovered in the army. But none had hair
up to the waist.
I grabbed a lock of hair in my fist and, with the edge of the same blade that
I had used it with the boys, I cut it to shoulder length, just enough.
long enough to tame it in a greased queue, but short enough that
to clearly distinguish between male and female. Section by section, I repeated the
action until there was much more hair on my feet than on my head.
I turned my head to the right and then to the left, enjoying the new and
weightless sway against my bare shoulders. My breasts seemed larger
without the long hair that concealed them. They stood out, with the pink-tipped ends and the
big enough to fill my palms. I crossed my arms.
arms, looking for a solution.
My corset was lying on the bed, I examined it and an idea came to me.
I slid the bones, removed the ties and cut the corset in horizontal halves. No
I needed to be corseted from the ribs to the hips; I needed
to constrict my breasts.
With careful stitches, I hemmed the edges carefully.
cut them and tied each section back with a piece of the long tie. Now I had
two belts, each about fifteen centimeters, one to use and another as a spare. If
it wasn't working, maybe I could sew the pieces back together and reinsert the deboning.

I got into the corset cut in half and lifted it to wrap around me.
underneath the armpits. Then I pulled the strings hard and my breasts
They obediently flattened against my chest. I almost felt... good.
What a strange sensation it is to be tied up from above and free in the middle!
I tied the ribbons, tucked the ends under the band and stood on tiptoe,
observing my reflection and amazed by the lack of movement. I raised the
arms, I danced a jig and almost laughed out loud. I felt good.
With the shirt on, it was even more impressive. The firmness was no different in
nothing like that of a man with a bit of muscle in the chest. My shoulders do not
they were wide, but not narrow either. He had developed enough strength in the
back to create a narrowing from the shoulders to the ribs, and my
hips were narrow with the shorts that hugged my waist.
My butt is too round - I worried, feeling my butt.
I thought about tightening it as well and how I could achieve it, but I dismissed the idea.
Most of the young people had no idea what a woman’s buttocks were like.
under the skirt and, of course, they had no idea what they looked like in their underwear. I let out a
giggle, a sharp and nervous sound, almost a whimper, and immediately I swallowed the
bubble of joy. Laughing was forbidden. Crying was not allowed either.

I was going to see the local recruitment officer. If I was successful, I would return before the
dawn and would finish the last two weeks of class while waiting for the day
from my report - I already knew how to do it - and no one would find out.
 I left for the city without a word or a note to the Thomases. I don't know
they would worry. Mrs. Thomas knew she was in mourning. If she realized that
that I had gone, they would think I had taken a walk in the woods or climbed up to the
on top of my hill, as was my habit.
I had added Reverend Conant's vest and coat to my outfit,
along with the deacon's Sunday hat. I would buy mine when
He would arrive in the city and return his to the hook next to the door. My shoes
they were also from Reverend Conant, and they needed new buckles to adjust them
Well -I had a narrow foot-, but they would also work until I got to the city.
A soldier needed good shoes.
I walked past the tavern and entered the meadow next to the First Church.
Congregational, walking with free legs and arms swaying to the
sides. Nobody was looking at me. The cars passed by. I didn't greet. I was a stranger, I told myself, and
I didn't shrink back or quicken my pace.

Master Israel Wood, the one in charge of recruiting each of the children of
Thomas looked directly into my face and didn’t see me at all. So much power
Did she have a skirt? Or were they pants such a convincing disguise? I couldn't
create it. However, no one studied me with interest.
I signed the enlistment lists with the name Elías Paterson, a name
that I had decided during my walk through the city, and they gave me sixty pounds,
that I didn't stop to count. Instead, I bought a pair of shoes and a
hat with a green ribbon, and I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a dandy, but
she didn't look like a woman.

Nobody even questioned me. They looked me directly in the eyes and didn't
no recognition appeared. I could have laughed if I weren't so
I was stunned. I hadn't changed my face. I had simply changed my hair.
and I had put on a hat and men's clothing. However, no one saw me
Deborah. No one saw a woman.
I entered Sproat's tavern and sat on a stool, not looking at the ...
neither to the right nor to the left. I reminded myself that I had to lie down with the
open knees and elbows resting on the bar, as if I had many things on
the head and something substantial between the legs.
 I had spent months in the back room of the tavern with my loom producing
fabric rolls for the army with donations from the townspeople. I never
I had sat at the bar and had never drunk, but I could pass the test.
here, it could happen anywhere.
What will you have, young man?

Sproat didn't even turn around and I grunted: —Ron, please —without a word. I didn't believe.
that I would like rum. But I didn't know it, and whether I liked it or not, I was going to drink it like
a man, a free man, a solitary man, and then I would ask for another. I drank
the two of them, suppressing the bodily shudder they caused me, and I asked for one.
more.

—So you're going with the others? —asked Sproat. —Maybe you'll see my son,
Ebenezer. He is with the Fourth. He has been appointed colonel.

Yes, sir, I said, and I burped like Jeremiah taught me. I left the hat on the
bar, increasingly more self-confident, and I ran my hands over my tail.
You would do well to cover your hair. The sun will bounce off that blonde and give
the red jackets a bright white. My son is a foot taller than most of
the others. It is a miracle that he still keeps his head—he stopped pouring and raised a
prayer right there.
I'm not tempting you, Lord, nor am I giving credit to luck when well
I know it is Providence, and I am filled with gratitude. Bless all the kids of
Middleborough, including this boy who is not yet a man —opened one eye
and he looked at me. —And may his drink bring forth hair on the chest and cheeks, because, if
die, completely grown death.

—Amen! —said someone, sitting down beside me with a burp and a slap.
on the back.
You're going to need more than hair, Sproat!
—Oh, really?

He is as thin as a new colt. He needs meat with his rum.

I took a fish pie and another glass. I was starting to like the taste.
what freedom knows — I whispered, but the men around me laughed.
I suppose I spoke louder than I thought.
 The room had softened and pulsed with the beats of my heart. Already
I wasn't afraid, but for some reason, I started to cry. My tears kept flowing.
dripping down my face and wetting the bar under my cheek. I would sleep here, where
all my new friends would pray for me and protect me. And tomorrow I would put on
the dress a little longer, until it was time for me to present myself for service. No one
lo sabría. Lo había conseguido. Me había convertido en un hombre.

Are you sure?

-Yes. Look at her hand. She has a finger of a knitter. Do you see how red and calloused it is?
Is it? It's about feeding the thread into the wheel; you've seen it done. You've seen her do it!
This boy is Deborah Samson.
There is only one way to know for sure.
Their voices were muffled and dreamy, and I was not ready to wake up.
To tell the truth, I wasn't able to wake up. I didn't believe my eyes would open either.
that my limbs moved, but my foggy brain was trying
desperately wake me up.
Big hands grabbed me by the shoulders and sat me up straight.
I managed to peek under my right eyelid to see who was
He was manipulating. They were Sproat and his curly-haired wife.

They stared at me intently, with intention, and reality shattered around me.
A torrent of pure terror burned the lethargy that had kept me enslaved,
but Sproat and his wife had not finished with me. Mrs. Sproat passed me
the palms of the hands over the chest.
They are tied up, but they are there.

With a muffled shout, I slapped his hands and fell off the stool.
the one who had spent several hours sitting so happily.
Call the sheriff and the meeting master. I saw her sign the lists. She took the
reward under false pretenses —someone shouted.
 Did you spend it all, Deborah Samson? — Sproat was helping me return to
stool. His hands did not move to verify his wife's statements,
but he still seemed convinced. They had caught me and I was drunk.
I shook my head. No. I hadn't spent it all... or all of it... had I? I clutched the
the wallet that I was wearing on my waist and that had seemed so to me the night before
healthy and hopeful. It jingled, but it didn't ring, and I counted what was left with horror.
Surely I hadn't spent that much. Someone must have taken it.
She is going to get sick. Get her out of here, lamented Mrs. Sproat. - No
I want to be cleaning up after her.

I can return it, I stammered, getting up. I wouldn’t get sick.

I wouldn't do it. —I just have to go home for the money. I'll return it. Please, no
I begged Mr. Sproat not to tell anyone.
I stumbled towards the door, but Mr. and Mrs. Sproat were not there.
willing to let me leave so easily.
It's too late, Deborah Samson,
heard inside. People know it. The word will spread if it hasn't already. Someone has
I’m going for the reverend and some of the brothers from the church. And with good reason.

Go get the money you took and return it to Israel Wood,

Mr. Sproat, in a friendlier tone. — Do it now, and the sheriff will leave.
tranquilo. Los bautistas... No sé nada de ellos. Pero al menos no te meterán en la
prison.
 Chapter 8

THE OPINIONS OF HUMANITY

Two older brothers accompanied me back to Thomas's farm.

the Baptist church, Clyde Wilkins and Ezra Henderson. Both had been
especially committed to my conversion after the death of the reverend
Conant. I traveled in the back of the car, listening to them talk, bouncing everything.
the path and more ill than I had ever been in my life.
It wasn't dawn yet, but Mr. Wilkins battered the door until
a tired Deacon Thomas and a round lady Thomas opened it wide
Then the brothers listed my sins with great specificity.
while I remained silent, guilty of every word, holding onto my
cheerful hat and swaying with my new shoes. I had lost the
deacon's hat along the way.
When they left, the deacon and Mrs. Thomas looked at me, with their eyes
gloomy and with a tight mouth, as if he had brought news of a new death.
The deacon pointed to my room with a tired voice. —Go to bed, Deborah.
We will talk when you are not dizzy.
I did what they told me, fighting against the tears of humiliation, and the
Mrs. Thomas hurried behind me. I declined her help, fearful that I
I took off the suit and closed the door behind me.

When I met with them at noon, pale and penitent, they had already argued.
my destiny.
I handed over to Deacon Thomas the money from the reward that I had left.
combined with the money I had spent. It took a toll on my meager savings.
For years I had saved every last penny of my wool and my
vegetables, and in one night he had wasted almost a quarter.
 I will take the reward and ensure it is returned to Israel Wood. Also
I will talk to the elders of the church. I will tell them that you lost your mind, but that you did not.
it will happen again — deacon Thomas paused and raised his eyes
dark towards mine. - It won't happen again, right, Deborah?
I shook my head. No. It wouldn't happen again. Not in Middleborough. It had been
a fool.
Why did you do it, Deborah? asked Mrs. Thomas. All the
People will think something is wrong with you. They won't hire you to weave nor will they let you in.
in their houses. Not if they think you are not in your right mind and that you are loose
moral.
I drank too much. It wasn't my intention. But a lot of people do it. Some do
they get drunk night after night. No one thinks they are crazy. No one thinks that
they are crazy.

Men who get drunk are not women dressed as men. No.
they are not school teachers or weavers. They are not women - said the deacon with
gravity.
No. They are not women - I agreed. And that was the crux of the matter.
—I should have never entered the tavern —why had I entered the
tavern?
Entering the tavern was the least of your sins, admonished the deacon.
You signed the registration! - shouted Mrs. Thomas. - Do you really want to go to the
war?
Yes. I really want to go. I want to help put an end to this. And why not
Should I? I can do everything the boys can do. I am a better shooter, and
a decent jacket. I ride well. I know how to barber, I know how to cook, I know how to sew, I know how to run.
He would be a good soldier. Jerry told me —oh, Jerry. Suddenly I started to tear up.
tears, but I swallowed them, refusing to let myself be undermined by my own
emotions.
So much skill is wasted on a woman - Deacon Thomas did not
spoke without compassion; it was what I believed. I assumed it was the truth. Such talents
were wasted on me.
You have broken the law. It is forbidden for a woman to disguise herself as
a man, or for a man to impersonate a woman.
 I nodded.
You can no longer teach the children.

I nodded again, knowing that he was right. —It was always a temporary position.
The elders of the church do not want you among their members. You will be eliminated.
from the lists. I anticipate that Mr. Crewe will also withdraw his marriage proposal.
You should have married him months ago —the deacon sighed.
—I did not seek his offer, nor would I have accepted it. And I do not care about the church.
Neither of the two —the words sprouted and spilled, and unlike my
tears, I could not contain them.
You have lost faith,
My faith is not in a church. My faith is in God. I have not lost my faith.
I argued in a low voice, shaking my head. I had not lost faith, but
I was in great danger of losing all hope.

Pasé el sábado sola en mi habitación, leyendo la Biblia y escribiendo una carta

useless to Elizabeth, increasingly anxious as night fell. I never...
I had felt so alone, both in my convictions and in my circumstances, but
my disappointment was the hardest thing to bear. I had tried to escape and had
failed. Miserably.
Oh, Elizabeth. I have been a complete idiot, and I can't help but think that the
the line that separates bravery from madness is very thin. I have told myself that
What I did was wrong, but deep down I don't believe it. I don't believe it, and what I regret is not...
it is having acted, but not having achieved it.
I set my journal aside and returned to the Scriptures, seeking inspiration, something that
relieve my sorrow. It was in Proverbs, chapter thirteen, verse twelve, where
I found an answer.
Hope deferred makes the heart sick; but when the desire comes, it is
tree of life —I read.
 Then I read the verse again, slowly, while a sudden understanding and
irrevocable echoed in my chest like the ringing of bells.

If I don ’t do this, I can ’t go on, I said to the silent walls.

I would rather die.
She was not given to histrionics or exaggerations, but deep down
I knew it was true from my being. I had lost hope and, if I did not chase it,
it would be finished.

I closed my Bible and got up. I took off my dress and petticoat and gathered my
hair, as I had done before, but now it was not the dejection or the sadness that
that informed my actions. It was the tree of life, which extended its branches towards
me, signaling me to move forward. I dressed in my male attire and
I gathered my things, moving quickly and silently, with clarity.
perching on my shoulders like angel wings. I hadn't thought through the
things the first time, and I had acted desperately, hastily. Not
I would make the same mistakes again.
My most treasured possessions - the letters from Elizabeth and John, the writings of
William Bradford, the Bible with my family tree - were left behind. I even left
my own diaries, although I hated the idea of someone else's eyes flipping through them
pages. Better here than where I was going. I would note my experiences on new pages,
and I decided to buy a small book and a travel set of pen and ink when
I will arrive at my destination.

The first thing I packed was two pairs of socks, the extra tape for the
breasts and a small blanket tied to the bottom of my backpack. I added to the bag a
loaf of bread, three apples and half a kilo of dried meat, and I laid down on the
shoulders the musket, the canteen and the cartridge box, as he had seen
make the soldiers. He had the rest of the money he had saved and the conviction
that I had acquired, and I left the house without allowing myself to look back.

I didn't take the mare, but set off on foot. I had ridden her so many times that,
if someone saw me, they would identify both of us, and although the deacon had given it to me
given for my use, it wasn't mine, and I couldn't bring it back. The Thomases had
lying down and the night was deep. I knew they would worry when they
they will raise and find me absent, but I saw no way to avoid it. I left them a
simple farewell and I thanked them for their kindness, but I didn't tell them where I was going nor did I
I promised to come back.
 I had to get ready in another place, where the lines were not full of
men of Middleborough, including the Thomas boys. To the north was Boston,
to the east Plympton and to the west Taunton, a community that united with
Middleborough. None was far enough for my peace of mind or my
anonymity. I would have to go south until I found a distant town and
in need of recruits to fill their quota.
I also needed a new name. Something boring and typical, but not so...
just enough to seem suspicious. A name that would serve as a cover for me
yes only, and something different from the one I had already used, disastrously.

I played with derivatives of Deborah, mixing the letters and saying it backwards.
Harobed? It wasn't a name. Obed? Horace? Robert? Robert was the one who most.
I liked it. It was Rob's proper name, and I already responded to that. Obed and Horace
they were too different.
Now a last name. I couldn't use Samson or Thomas or Bradford. I considered
Conant, as a nod to my dear friend, and I abandoned it immediately.
Everyone who knew me was aware of that connection. The maiden name of
Elizabeth was Lee, but she was too ordinary and too simple. Johnson,
James, Jones... too common for everyone.
My older brother was named Robert Shurtliff, in honor of an obscure
a relative of whom I knew nothing. The surname Shurtliff, which is spelled in various ways.
ways in Massachusetts, was unusual enough to seem realistic. Not
I could imagine someone choosing it on their own, which made it ideal.
Robert Shurtliff.
She settled softly around me and I nodded at the moonlight.
I am Robert Shurtliff, I murmured. I am twenty-one years old, I shook my head.
rejecting that. He could pass for a child, not for a man. I would tell them that
I was sixteen. —I am smart. I am fast. I am capable of everything. I am from... —I stopped
thoughtful. Where was he from? He couldn't say Middleborough or Plympton. There was
born in Plymouth County, so that's what I would say. I tried from
new, repeating my story. —I am Robert Shurtliff. I am sixteen years old. From a
town of Plymouth. No family to speak of.
They would think I am a naive orphan rushing to enlist in the army.
first opportunity, like so many others. But that was okay. That was okay. If
they thought I was lying about my age, maybe they wouldn't even think that I was lying
about my sex. I would tell the truth whenever I could, to make things easier for myself.

I repeated my story all night, matching it to the rhythm of my feet.

on the road, and I made a pact with myself: I would not cry, I would not complain and
I wouldn't give up. Those things wouldn't make me a man - I knew many.
women with those qualities-, but I thought that if I held my tongue and my
tears, I wouldn't call it overly attention-grabbing.

I wouldn't drink either. I had learned that lesson.

So I swore to continue doing what I had done all my life: endure and
to overcome myself. That was my only plan.

My fear and my sanity returned at dawn, after walking for

hours in a state of calm conviction. He had crossed Taunton in the
darkness and I was to the west of the village when a horseman approached from
the opposite direction, trotting. I considered the possibility of running towards the
grove, but I abandoned the plan immediately. Acting suspiciously only
I would raise suspicions. I kept walking, at a brisk pace and with my shoulders back.
backward.
I prepared myself and politely nodded as he passed by, realizing in the
last moments of recognizing him. He was a postman. He had been the messenger
that had visited the farm several times with letters from the front. He was carrying the backpack
she was filled and her destination was clear: Taunton and Middleborough.

He didn't look at me for a second, and I didn't allow myself to look where I was going, but the
the incident left me weak and trembling, and I found a thicket of trees about
ten steps along the path where I could close my eyes and rest for a while. I ate a
apple, I drank a little water and fell into such a deep sleep that not even an army
From gloomy riders I could have been awakened.
It took me three days of walking, winding through villages and skirting around.
farms, until I reached as far south as I could and reached the coastal city of
New Bedford. I had moved in a kind of trance, intoxicated by the
freedom I had never enjoyed and almost dizzy with my outfit
male. I was surprised that not all the women had put on the
calzones and abandoned their home to wander the world.
I walked along the docks, enjoying the sun reflecting on the water and the
breeze that stirred the sails of the anchored boats in the port. New Bedford and the
nearby Fairhaven had been attacked by the British in '78, setting fire to it.
houses, shops, and boats, and the damages were still evident. It was a beautiful city,
even wounded and with scars. Stone, grass, and seagulls paid tribute to the river and
to the ocean.

I came across some fishermen with their nets full and their faces reddened by the
wind and the effort, and I thought of sweet Jeremíah and his dreams of sailing the
mares. My own aspirations and my hunger woke me up, pushing me to
keep going, and I found the way to a thatched roof tavern that
it gave to the docks, with a painted vulture on the door, wings folded and eyes
stingy. Sailors and soldiers came and went, and nobody paid any attention to me.
look. I suppressed a smile and said a prayer of thanks and a
own proverb. 'You have made me tall and simple, and I will never complain.'

The business was booming and the dining room was bustling with people; the stench of
sweat and stew made my eyes cry and my stomach growled. I approached the
bar to order cookies and stew, with my eyes down, holding my backpack and
mentally counting my coins.
A couple of women whose breasts protruded above their cleavage
deeply square ones approached me, one on each side, and I kept the
stubbornly averted gaze. It had been a woman from Middleborough who
I had been discovered the first time. Women knew other women and did not.
they underestimated so easily. But if I was going to be among men, men who
they assumed by my height, my flat chest and my thin hips that I was
Impossible for her to be a woman, then she could be safe. There wouldn't be women who
They will scent me. But I was still not safe.
"Buy us a drink, handsome, and we will keep you company," said one. They were
dusty and covered in dust, and they both seemed to have accompanied many
types. I was left speechless looking at them and then I looked around, unsure of
if they were talking to me. I rested my elbows on my sides and crossed my arms
over the chest, just in case.
No drinks for me, I said. Just stew, please.
 A woman mocked and the other sighed. — She thinks we are serving the
stew, Dolly.
I have nothing you want, I stammered, and both of them laughed.

Too good for us, huh? said the youngest.

No, ma'am. Not too good. Just hungry.
Leave him alone, Lydia. He's just a boy, although very handsome.
she called me Dolly and stroked my cheek. I froze in fear, certain that in
At any moment, they were going to pounce on me as the lady had done.
Sproat, discovering me in the crowded tavern, but they just laughed at
new and they turned their attention to the sailors who were approaching the bar to me
side.
"Do you want a room, boy?" asked the innkeeper.

I shook my head. —Just a bite to eat. Then I'll continue on my way.

He put a bowl of fish soup and two biscuits in front of me, and I ate it.
so fast that I barely tried it. I took some coins out of my pocket and the man
gave me another generous spoonful and a little more bread. He handed me a jug and continued.
he intended to fill it, but I shook my head and hit the edge with my hand. —No,
Thank you, sir. Just water, please.
He shrugged and agreed, but he noticed my backpack and the musket.
What he was carrying on his back. "Are you looking for a job, boy?" he asked me.

--I want to enlist in the army--I replied. --Is there any meeting in
march?
They won't take you away - he grunted. - You're barely weaned, and the war is almost here.
finished. But the captain over there, in the corner, is looking for a cabin boy.

I turned around to observe the room, trying to see which man he was referring to.
although he had no interest in the job. The man on the corner had the
head tilted over his drink, forearms resting on the table, but there was
something familiar in the line of her cheek and in the expression of her forehead. She raised the
view, as if it had been mentioned, and I turned towards the bar, avoiding her.
scrutinizing gaze, and I finished eating.
 You better leave, boy - the woman named Dolly was back,
sitting next to me, but looking at the bar as if waiting to talk to him
waiter
"You don't want to drink or provoke. That's good," he murmured, and once again not.
I wasn't sure if they were talking to me. —You are too young for the
women or to be a soldier. But you don't want any of that either — she tilted her head
to the corner of the room. —Samson is bad.
—Samson? —I gasped.
He kept his gaze straight ahead, and I couldn't tell if he was lying or if
I was simply afraid.
He doesn't know which side he's on. No one can trust him. Moreover, when you go out
In the open sea, there is nowhere to escape, and no one will notice if you don't return to port.

Is he called Samson? I pressed, incredulous, but she ignored it.

speaking quickly.
Go to Bellingham. The reward is fair and the recruits are the toughest to
to get. They will accept you. I know the recruiter; he's a good guy. Tell him that Dolly you
send.
I took another coin out of my pocket. In reality, I couldn't do without one, but
I did it anyway, sliding it across the bar to the woman. She took it.
She tucked it between her breasts and walked away without looking back, and I did what they advised me.

But I couldn't leave without knowing.

The day was warm and I had a full belly, so I found a patch of grass.
where to leave the backpack and rest, watching the door of the vulture inn and
waiting for the man named Samson to appear.
I didn't have to wait long. He came out striding, with a nearly rolling gait,
as if he had not adapted to the ground he was stepping on, or perhaps he had drunk
too much.
I called him. —Jonathan Samson, is that you?

He turned abruptly, almost spinning, and when he saw me and realized that
it was I who had spoken, raised his hand to shield his eyes.
 If I hadn't recognized myself in his face, I might not have believed it was him.
My memories were weak and burdened with unhappiness. But he was the same man.
tall, with long bones, blonde and with hazel eyes, although his skin was tanned
and her back slightly hunched.
I got up, needing my own height to stabilize myself. They had...
I warned that I would distance myself from him, but I was calm. Strangely, the blood
It only moved in my veins. I wasn't worried at all that it knew me.
He had never met me. He would never know me.
He looked at me with eyes like mine, eyes that didn't know what color to be.

Who are you? Are you Ephraim? -he asked. -You are not Robert. Robert
it looked like a Bradford, not a Sansóm.

He carried the musket on his back and it was not loaded, but he had noticed his
presence. He had said what he had to say and had seen everything he had to see.
I picked up my backpack and started walking in the opposite direction.

-Who are you, pup? -he insisted again, angry, but he did not make a gesture.
to follow me.
I am more of a man than you will ever be,
over the shoulder. —I will tell Mother that I saw you. She told us that you were
lost at sea.
It was foolish of me. I was mocking him and putting myself in
danger. I should never have gotten involved with him. I knew the proverb well about the
bad tongues. He had proven it time and time again, and that day at the docks of
New Bedford would turn against me.

I bought a diary and a travel ink and pen set, just as I had said.
what would I do, but I didn't dare to write like Deborah, in case it fell into the wrong hands,
and I was careful not to say anything revealing. Still, I directed the entry as I had
done for years, needing the comfort of my friend, even if she couldn't.
answer me.
Dear Elizabeth,
 Vi a mi padre en New Bedford. Me advirtieron que me alejara de él, aunque no
I intended to board his ship. I want to be a soldier, not a sailor. It seems that he
he has become a captain after all, but a woman at the tavern told me
What is "a bad one".
He also told me to go north, to a place called Bellingham, although
It's fifty miles away. He said they were gathering troops and that the reward
it was good. For most of the first day I rode a horse and I
tired of turnips, although I have never liked them too much. The farmer was kind.
and his wife glanced at me and broke down in tears. They also lost their son in
Germantown.
I have so much to tell you, although I wonder if you already know. I like
to think that you follow me, that you are an angel on my shoulder. I am alone, but I do not
I feel lonely. My heart is too full of hope to be sad. It is
like nothing I have felt before, and as Solomon says, my desire is a tree of
life. I have nothing else to do but walk, and my mind is strangely
calm, my unease subdued. People have been kind. They consider me
too young, but no one has stopped me, and this new adventure does not stop
amaze me.

I did not speak about my identity or the details of my struggle. I did not write about
my menstruation nor about the device I had made to tie myself up
breasts. I wanted to do it. I wanted to document everything, but I didn't dare to do it and
I left my vague entries. Anyway, it comforted me, and when I signed.
At the end of each page, it didn't seem like a lie to me.

The innkeeper's warning, 'They won't accept you,' haunted me throughout the
I traveled, but when I arrived in Bellingham, they sent me to Uxbridge, where the
troops were scarce and recruits were needed. The man who was behind
the table did not challenge me at all. It made me approach the measuring station and
he asked me if I wanted to be a soldier. I replied that yes, very fervently, and I
it was gratifying that it was the truth.

What do you do? he asked.

I was a weaver... and I taught in the school - weaving was not simply a
profession of women. The Bradfords came from a long line of weavers.
William Bradford brought a loom on the Mayflower.
 The speculator made a note on the rolls, indicating that I knew how to read and
write. Then he indicated that I should sign on the line and, in a moment of panic,
I spelled Shurtliff wrong. It hardly mattered, since he didn't know the difference, but
I could have also written Shirtless, as bare as I felt. He handed me
my reward and went to the man who was behind me. I told Elizabeth my
triumph in an entry dated April 20, 1781.
I am a private in the Fourth Regiment of Massachusetts. They have not only...
accepted, but I have been assigned to a light infantry company in command
of Captain George Webb. The light infantry is the one capable of advancing with
speed, and I would like to tell the brothers that this proves, once and for all
for all, because I am really one of the fastest.
Three years or the end of the war. That was what I accepted. My hand trembled a little.
when I signed the list, but it was not fear that made me tremble. I am not the
smallest soldier, not the tallest, but my step is just as long and my heart
Equally willing. They told me to report in Worcester within three.
days -another fifteen-mile walk-, where they will prepare me.
Proverbs 13:19 says that a fulfilled desire is sweet to the soul.

I have never experienced anything sweeter.

 Chapter 9

DECLARE THE REASONS

Each soldier was given a uniform that they had to wear.

immediately and a backpack with rations for a week - salted pork and
hard cookies - that we had to carry on our backs. They told us that we should also
we would look for food along the way, and soon I realized that I had never
sufficient.
The men around me began to take off their cloaks.
Outside, the dirty and mostly ragged heaps rose around.
of his feet. I did the same, gritting my teeth and moving quickly.
I couldn't escape behind a tree or raise a partition every time I
I was facing a situation like this. I was wearing underwear that were indistinguishable.
in nothing of all the men who surrounded me, and the half corset that I
I was tied up tight under the shirt. No one was looking at me. No one had the
small sign that he had something to hide. Better that he didn't act as if he did.
had.
The fit of the shorts made all the men look like a chicken.
plucked, thin legs and undefined sex, the folds and the extra fabric
designed for motion concealed what was between her legs. That was
Well, but I felt scandalous, with my hips and thighs clearly.
defined by the adjustment.
I can do it. I've done it. It's done.
shaky hands. I had been in my underwear for two weeks; I wasn't going to despair now.
I put my arms into the white vest, which was essentially a vest.
adjusted, and immediately I felt more secure. I wrapped the scarf around myself.
around the neck and that also calmed me down. My neck was long and thin,
without the prominent Adam's apple. Better to hide it completely.
 El uniforme me quedaba bastante bien. El chaquetón azul era un poco ancho
my shoulders and the shorts were tight in all the wrong places, although
I managed to grab a bit of the seat.

Do you have worms, kid? a man with a mustache mocked me. Do you
Does it itch the butt?

I ignored him and tied the shoelaces at the top of the panties to prevent
that would slide down, determined to alter them when she had the chance. Not
I had no reason to worry so much about them. Even without a corset that tightened me.
waist, it was not as straight at the waist as men's.
I pulled the stockings up to my knees and held them in place with the ribbons.
in their place, then I put the gaiters on top. The day was hot and the layers
they were not welcome, but the gaiters would protect our legs and preserve
the stockings.

Cuando me puse el sombrero tricornio en la cabeza, tuve que contener la

smile when the green plume caressed my cheek. I had never worn anything.
neither so cheerful nor so fine. In the early days of the war, the rebels had not
had a uniform. I suppose that was an advantage of arriving late to the conflict; I
I adored him/her.

I rolled up the clothes I had taken off in my blanket and secured it on both sides.
ends with a rope, making a small sling to carry it
under my backpack. I set about organizing the rest of the equipment: the box of
["cartridges","the powder horn","the canteen","the musket","the axe"]
knife... all hanging from my chest with another strap or hanging from my waist.
They had also given me a bayonet, along with a sheath to store it.
cuando no estaba sujeta al mosquete. De todos los pertrechos de guerra, la
the bayonet was the one I liked the least. If I ever had to use it, I doubted
that came out victorious.
I carried my mug, my bowl, and my knife in the backpack, along with a kit for
coser. My diary, my travel inkwell, my flint and my tinderbox. A comb, a
candle, a bar of soap wrapped in oiled leather and rags that could
serve me when I start to bleed, which would still take a few weeks, thanks to
the Providence. I had dealt with the flow on my journey from Middleborough. I managed to
I had fixed things quite well, but I had been alone. It would be harder to continue.
forward.
 A few hard cookies and a small bag of dried peas would give me
something to snack on if my hunger became too great. I had one more shirt,
two pairs of stockings and the other modified corset, in case the one I’m wearing now gets
it was ruined or got wet and I needed to change. A little more and I would have had
too much equipment.
"The less they carry, the less they will have to load," shouted Captain Webb,
echoing my thoughts, and they rushed us out to the bright one
noon, pulling on our uniforms and straightening ourselves while we
they were teaching the exercises.

I excelled in the exercises. I had made sure it would be so. A couple of

Sometimes Captain Webb shouted: 'That's it, boy! Eyes on the kid, men.'
This is how it's done —I couldn't control the heat of my cheeks, but I kept my back straight.
straight and my eyes did not slide. I kept going like that and prayed that the captain did not
it would be appropriate to call my attention again. Men liked
provoke.
Where did you learn to train like that, soldier? Captain Webb asked me.
giving me a pat on the back. I shivered, but I didn't pull away.
I used to watch the men train on the prairie... when I was young.
Practicaba con mis… hermanos. Me gustan los ejercicios. Me ayudan a relajarme
I only hesitated in the parts I didn't want to explain. The Thomases were not my
brothers, but they could have been.

—And your name?

—Robert Shurtliff, sir.
He nodded. —Can you shoot as well as you train?
Yes, sir.

—Well, that's fine then. Wait for the redcoats to march by.
the battlefield —he murmured. —All those exercises will leave your mind.
Good thing. A drill has never killed anyone. Have you ever killed someone?
No, sir.
You will do it.
 I did not fear death, as strange as it may seem. I almost awaited it. But not
I wanted to kill. And for the first time, it occurred to me that killing was what I was made for.
I had gotten ready.

Very few things are as we imagine they will be, but I am sure that
nothing, not all the races, jumps, hide and seeks, and sneaking that I had done in
my twenty-one years could have prepared me for the exhausting march that
continued. Every day I went through something so unpleasant that I started to store a
pit of miseries. He told me: — This is not as bad as that, and yesterday not
you abandoned One day it was the mud, the next day the flies. A heat
untimely or an incessant downpour.
Sometimes, the voice in my head insisted that no one knew me. I could
to leave and become Deborah Samson again, and Robert Shurtliff would simply leave.
of existing. That voice was a liar, and I called it that. Robert Shurtliff could
to stop being, yes, but Deborah Samson's world was no longer available to
me. I had no home, no clothes, no belongings. I had no family to take me in or
paid employment that would keep her fed. Anything would be better.
What is this, the voice insisted, but I learned to return my thoughts to silence, or otherwise
to silence, to fill the space with proverbs and psalms. Sylvanus was right.
When my own words failed me, the things I had memorized
they kept defeat and despair at bay.
"What are you murmuring?" a man asked me several days later.
called John Beebe. He was a charlatan who earned the nickname Buzzy Beebe.
first day of the route. I maintained a constant dialogue with anyone who wanted to
listen to him, and he had made his rounds as the kilometers stretched out,
without it seeming to affect him more than boredom.

I shook my head. —Nothing.

You're always moving your lips, but you never say anything,
You don't talk to any of us and you are reserved. Are you completely crazy or
You're just unfriendly. What is it?
Both.
 He cleared his throat and then repeated what I had said to the two guys who were there.
Behind us. Their names were Jimmy Battles and Noble Sperin, and I liked them.
Jimmy reminded me of Jeremiah and Noble of Nat, the two bookends of the Thomases.
Both growled at Beebe, neither of them was interested in the
conversation. Or maybe it was just too difficult for them to get involved.

I think you are just having fun argued Beebe. It's mean not to
share it. I'm bored. If you have a story or a song, you should tell me.
It's just the writings.

—Writings? —he clucked, and turned again to Noble and Jimmy. —Have you
Did you hear that? Shurtliff prefers to quote the scriptures rather than talk to me.

He is shy. Leave him alone, Noble insisted.

Beebe threw his heavy arm over my shoulder. —Come on. Share the good stuff.
word with me. I need salvation.
I shrugged with a shudder and a strong push, and he
he staggered against the man to his left, sending a wavering stagger through
the line.
Bonny Robbie doesn't like to be touched, she said laughing.

—So don’t touch it —Noble intervened again. —And for God’s sake,
shut your mouth.

Beebe grumbled: —It seems very unfriendly to me.

It had drawn negative attention only a few days later. My
fatigue turned into worry when the men around me
they fell into an exhausted silence and Beebe stepped back and looked for someone else
willing to talk.
He wasn't a bad guy. None of them were. None seemed petty because of him.
my being it, and none seemed too soft or especially
scared. That was good. I was scared enough for all of us, but
I changed my strategy after that, making myself useful instead of
to keep myself aloof. I couldn't mistreat, but I could serve, and I looked for a way.
to reconcile on my own terms. The physical distance was necessary, but the
camaraderie as well.
 I made it known that I was a decent barber - only fools used a straight razor on
his own face without a mirror - and I spent an afternoon shaving the whole company and
greasing their hair into tight ponytails. I also offered to write letters for
those who lacked the ability, and even Beebe had me write a message for
house. Her incessant chatter did not translate into written words. However,
I could read a little and saw me writing to Elizabeth, whom he presumed to be my girlfriend. No
It was wrong for my company to believe it, and I let them shoot me down without clarifying.
never the things. Unfortunately, the nickname that they gave me stuck, and Bonny
Robbie or Bonny Rob was how most of the men called me.
I did not participate in the competitions, neither in the fights nor in the races, although
Jimmy challenged me, and I would have liked to see how I managed. I wasn't very
different from living in the Thomas house, although I heard and witnessed things that...
they burned the ears and the eyes. I had no idea that the men were
so obsessed with women or with their own anatomy; the brothers told me
they had saved.
We traveled all over Connecticut, including New Britain, and I informed Elizabeth about
that had the appearance I imagined, although, like in Massachusetts,
there were very few places that had not been harmed by the war.
We traveled through towns and slept where we were welcomed and even where we were not.
we were. One night I was so fatigued that I didn't even make it into the house.
that they had quartered me. I woke up in the grass, shivering under a light
drizzle; my companions had abandoned me for a roof over their heads.
If the owner of the house had not gone out to collect eggs and had taken pity on
Me... —Come in, boy, with the others —I would have thought they left me behind.
I became an expert at sleeping on demand. I had always slept on my side,
curled up about myself, with my hands interlaced between my breasts. No longer
I had no preferred ritual or posture. Half the time I slept with the
mosquito in the arms, looking at the sky, because sleeping on one's back on the ground
it was easier than any other position.
One night, I slept in a furrow of a freshly plowed field. There, in the soft
earth, with the sides cradling me like the arms of a mother, I enjoyed the
the best dream I had ever had. But that was not normal. I stopped wearing
the account of the food I had in my belly and the hours of rest that I did not have
I had. My menstruation would arrive halfway through the march, but the flow was so light
that I barely noticed it. Either I was becoming a real man or
I was too thin or exhausted to bleed. I thanked God for that.
mercy in my prayers.
 Every man has to sneak away sometimes to relieve himself.
. It didn't seem enough to raise suspicions that I did it more than
I was much worse than the others, but I held on until I burst. The only time another
soldier glimpsed my side, crouching, turned on his heels, assuming
that had caught me doing something else, for which every person must sit down.

No one bathed or changed clothes to sleep. The clothes we wore

when we left Worcester it was the one we all wore when
We arrived at West Point two weeks later.

The British controlled the city of New York, and we did not get close to it.
cutting through the territory considered neutral. The kilometers were populated
of farms and settlements that gave way to dense forests as we
we were approaching the area known as the highlands.
In all directions, an endless expanse of green hills stretches
it leaned under a blue sky, embracing the curves of the winding river, and could not
imagine a more beautiful place. My astonishment returned, my admiration and my hope
also, and my well of miseries dried up before my new horizons.
This is why I am here - I whispered. - This is what I wanted.
We crossed the clear Hudson, often simply called the North River,
by the King's ferry, a dock on the eastern bank of the river filled with everything
type of vessels and troops, and we landed on the western bank of the river,
in Fort Clinton, a rocky building that overlooked the water. Since it had never been
in a state destined for nowhere, I had nothing to compare that strength to,
that it was actually one of the several forts that made up the camp
known as West Point. Constitution Island jutted into the river just
in front, and behind the deposits, another fort and two redoubts could be seen.

Where the river curved upon itself, there stretched a huge chain
from the point to the island to prevent the passage of British ships, although
Captain Webb claimed that they had never tried it. But that was not the only one.
wonder
 On the other side of the walls of the garrison and behind Fort Clinton extended
a flat grass-covered plateau at least half a mile wide, with a
impressive artillery park at the southern tip and a camp in
expansion in the rear, completely invisible from the water.
They gave us a quick tour of the place: the headquarters, the bakery, the
["prison","the officers' barracks","the headquarters","the blacksmith shop","the storage"]
the hospital, the warehouses, and the rows of wooden barracks, where we were
He indicated that we choose a bunk bed and leave our bags.
In the center of the camp there was a large parade ground, where we
they gathered us and ordered us to stand at attention while
We were expecting more instructions. I was not the only soldier with very wide eyes.
open, and my gaze continuously roamed the vast camp, the landscape
steep and the silver ribbon of water that crossed it.
It wasn't until a couple of drummers at the edge of the meadow began to
to play, signaling the arrival of an officer on horseback, which I managed to divert my
attention to my surroundings. It was approaching in the direction of a large red house.
just visible among the trees. Captain Webb indicated that he had been there before
that the foundation would be established.

General Washington used it as a permanent headquarters during

for a while, and still stays there when he comes to the Point —he had added.
My astonishment grew again. I could see General Washington.
The horse that the officer was riding was white, with mane and tail the color of coal, and
although she did cartwheels like a princess, she was built like a gunboat,
all muscle and mass. Beebe whistled in acknowledgment when the rider
dismounted and handed the reins to a sentinel who was standing attentively at the
proximities. Colonel Jackson, Captain Webb, and several officers from other
regiments approached to greet him.
General Washington gave him that horse. Some say it was a bribe.
to return to service, although General Paterson would cut out your tongue if he heard you
to say it.

—General Paterson? —I gasped, a bit too loud. The men around me

They gasped around me at my outburst, but I was too stunned to
worry me. —Is that General Paterson? —I hissed.
 That's right,
brigade.
I knew that John Paterson was an intelligent and kind man. After all,
I had replied to the letters of a girl I hired and was responding to my
questions with seriousness, without condescension or disdain. That was already something, and in my
he had adopted the traits and appearance of Sylvanus Conant, kind and gray-haired,
a wise elf with a slight tilt and a soft belly.
This John Paterson was none of those things.
He was sturdy and tall, with a thick mane of brown hair tied up in a
hair at the nape. He was not old at all, and he did not resemble at all the
good reverend.

—Ese no es el general —dije. —Seguro que no es él.

— It definitely is, good boy — Beebe stated. — But don't let yourself
deceive by his appearance as an ordinary man.

—Common man? —I stammered. He looked nothing like any man I had seen.
seen before.
He has no patience for laziness or neglect. He likes exercises, the
rules and order, and has no qualms about throwing out the rabble, if you happen to be
scum —another man intervened.
Robbie is not gossip - Jimmy Battles, who was next to me, jumped in.
defense, reminding me again of Jeremiah, but I was still too immersed
in my disbelief as to give thanks.
This wasn't Elizabeth's John, right? But, how many generals Paterson
Could there be? I thought he had gone home, to Lenox, but here he was,
inspeccionando a las tropas recién llegadas, deteniéndose para intercambiar unas
words here and there, with a long step and hands intertwined behind the back.
I must have groaned aloud.
Are you okay, Robbie? Jimmy asked.

I wasn't. Not at all. —I thought he had resigned.

He did it, Beebe replied. His wife died. He went home to take care of
his matters. General Washington asked him to return.
 "How do you know so much about Paterson, Beebe?" asked Jimmy.

Do you think soldiers don't gossip? The ranks are worse than the ladies in
a room. They are worse than a picnic in the church. Poor Paterson has been carrying so much
time in this struggle that it is a miracle that they have not named it after a
strong.

— Ésa no es su forma de ser — replicó un hombre mayor llamado Peter

Knowles, a reengaged one. —He has never cared much about glory. That's why he
he is well-liked by men and General Washington trusts him. He does not have an ego.
extravagant. Not like Arnold or some of the others.
"Isn't she a bit young?" I asked, still unable to believe that this was my
John Paterson.
--Look who’s talking-- Beebe snorted.

He is the youngest brigadier general in the entire army,

—Except for Lafayette, but we won’t count him, being French.
As the general approached, all conversation ceased. All backs turned.
they straightened up and all the gazes swayed.
He/She wouldn't recognize me. We had never seen each other. He/She had never seen me, nor I him/her.
he. But I knew him. And he knew me, as well as anyone on earth knew me.
I knew, and suddenly I was so scared that I could barely stand up.
The emotion grew in my throat and throbbed behind my eyes. I blinked.
furiously, outraged by my sudden loss of composure. I had
prepared for a possible sighting of one of the Thomas, although none
of their companies was parked at the Point, but Elizabeth's John me
I had been caught by surprise. It hadn't even occurred to me that he was here, and
I was dirty, I smelled, and I was so tired that I didn ’t dare to speak.
I began to pray, frantically, in silence.
In you, Lord, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame; deliver me in your
justice. Turn your ear toward me, come quickly to my aid; be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress that saves me.
The general passed by me, in his immaculate uniform and shiny boots, the
close enough that I could have put my hand on the shoulder strap,
that was at eye level. It measured half a head more than most of the
men. He reached the end of our company, chatting with Captain Webb and the
Colonel Jackson, before turning around and backing away again, with his eyes
walking down the rows. His gaze stopped on my face and he frowned. I was at
only three meters, but he shortened the distance to place himself right in front of me.

How old are you, soldier?" she asked in a soft voice.

I cleared my throat, met her pale blue eyes and said the
a lie that was more believable than the truth. —Sixteen, sir.
He grunted, indicating his displeasure with my answer. — And you, soldier?
—he asked Jimmy.
I am also sixteen years old, General, sir.
What is your name?

—Jimmy Battles.
—Hmm. Any connection to the Battles of Connecticut?
I don't know, sir. I don't know my father's family.
He looked at me again. - And you ... what is your name?

—Robert Shurtliff —I responded, without hesitation.

Robbie is one of the best, General,

humidity threatened to rise again. Kindness was my downfall. —Always
he is willing and always capable.

— Robbie? — the general repeated, as if confused by the nickname.

Jimmy? Where are all the men, Webb? Every new batch of recruits
seems younger than the previous one.

They are young, but they are eager, and I am satisfied with them, sir.
It's not the best company I've had, but it's definitely not the worst.

John Paterson shook his head, obviously not reassured. — If God

he wants, this war will end before we make them men... or we will dig their graves
tombs he murmured, and proceeded down the line.
 3 de mayo de 1781
Dear Elizabeth,
John is here. I wasn't expecting him. I confess that I am more shocked by his
appearance that for anything else until now. They say that the General
Washington would not accept his resignation. He seems very esteemed and respected, and he greeted.
I personally know many of the new soldiers.
It is a very striking figure, although I did not impress it; my appearance did not.
inspires confidence. Still, the encounter overwhelmed me and I wanted to express my condolences. I
it seemed a great dishonesty not to greet him like a friend, although, for
Supposedly, decorum and my circumstances dictated otherwise.
Captain Webb praised me in his presence, which moved me greatly. Webb
he is a good officer, just like Colonel Jackson, although I have heard stories about
many who are not. Too many think too much about their own comfort and
not enough in the men in their charge, although that does not seem to be the case here
at West Point. Perhaps it is the example of the general, who seems to demand a lot from
everyone, even of himself. His farewell words in the courtyard were
the following: — There are no exceptions to the rules. You will comply with them. Your
the officials will continue them. I will follow them. This is how we safeguard our position,
how we defend each other and how I protect you.
It's not at all what I expected, Elizabeth. It's young, but old. Funny,
but gloomy. Straight and tall, but also weary, although my impressions may
to be dyed by my compassion. I pray not to disappoint him nor to disappoint myself
same. Although I may not be able to follow all of its rules. -RS
 Chapter 10

THE SEPARATION

General Paterson lived in the Moore house, named after the farmer who built it.
built before the army determined that his lands were the place
perfect for a fortress on the Hudson and it would be confiscated. It was a huge house
of red planks with three courtyards, a huge stone chimney, and several floors, and
it clashed completely with the other wooden structures of the Point.
Everyone called her the Red House, as if she needed to stand out from the
other houses of the garrison, and it was separated by an additional parade ground
small and a short path to the north of the new barracks. My company was stationed
in them, which pleased my colleagues a lot. The rumors about the rats of
the old barracks were a nightmare.
We weren't far from the pond, where we could swim, bathe, and wash.
clothes if we didn't want to use one of the bath barrels lined up in a long
line near the latrines. Neither the barrels nor the latrines offered any privacy.
On each side of the latrine there were two built-in benches with holes in the part
superior. Twenty men could sit and empty their bowels at the same time,
while enjoying a face-to-face conversation. There were two latrines of this
type at each end of the camp, and the officers' houses and the Red House
They had their own latrines, although their use was prohibited for the rank and file soldiers.

I went to bed last and got up first, I only used the latrine twice.
times a day, making my way through to the long structure in the darkness, following
my nose and guiding myself with my toes, moving slowly so as not to
falling into a hole full of waste. I had no choice. I couldn’t sit down.
next to another man with his pants down.
After that first night, I counted my steps and always used the
same bank and the same hole, simply because familiarity was their
own kind of show. I tried to go when everyone was asleep, but my
exhaustion made it hard to wait, and some men realized when they
became a ritual.
—Robbie has the face of a boy and the bladder of a boy —Beebe said two weeks later.
I said nothing in response, as was my custom, but nothing scared me more.
that the discovery. Neither the pain. Nor death. Neither torture nor hunger. It
The only thing I wanted was to move forward, and that meant staying under the radar.

My friends liked to play pranks, even on Noble and Jimmy. They said
that everything was for fun, and it might have been, but a familiar routine
invited many opportunities for sabotage, just like he had done in the
march, I adjusted my strategy.
The next night, I entered the latrine right behind Beebe and found a
empty site right in front of him so that my presence wouldn't be noticed. I loosened my
ties, I lowered my panties and sank into the hole with a smooth movement,
covering myself with the shirt tails and looking at the ground.
I stayed long enough for Beebe to leave and for some to arrive.
men more. I even managed to urinate and relieve the constant pain I had been suffering from since
that I got ready. It was the most horrible thing I had ever done, and then I ended up
mortification welts on my neck, but at least a dozen men me
they had seen, and that was my goal. I could not imagine turning it into something
habitual, it was about trying fate, but he had succeeded.
Bathing was something else. I bathed in the pond two hours before the
The bugle call will wake up the camp when it was so dark that not even
I could barely see myself. I would dive into the clothes and wash them while wearing them.
I became an expert at shaking off the soaked underwear and
untie the corset I was wearing under the shirt so that I never stay
completely naked. But I was worried about how I would manage when
winter will arrive.
I kept myself as neat and tidy as possible, brushing my coat,
shining my boots and maintaining my gear, even if only to avoid
extra attentions and inspections, something that happened to some of the soldiers
more unkempt.
I have no doubt that many of the men noticed my youthful face and my
clear thesis. My skin had always been my best feature. I am sure that some
they noticed the slightly unmanly shape of my hips and the width
comparatively narrow of my shoulders. Perhaps they even laughed a little at the
unfortunate "pretty boy" from their ranks who spoke in a low voice, when he spoke.
I kept my voice as deep as I could - I had always been hoarse -
but it wasn't serious enough; it wasn't even as serious as Jimmy's. I imagined
to my company talking among themselves. Robbie seems a bit feminine. It's not his fault.
None of us can do much for his appearance.
But then I kept the pace during the march, I led them in the exercises.
and I handled my weapon with as much speed and precision as anyone of my
company, and they stopped seeing the parts of me that would have made them doubt before.

They accepted me as a man because for me being a woman was unfathomable.

A partial solution to my problem came with the surveillance service. The

Captain Webb's company was assigned to the water guard - which was
exactly what it looked like - from the Red House to the big chain.
We stood guard along the perimeter, watching the water, with a man.
bet each ten yards. Considering that no boat passed beyond
from the barrier, the section of the river assigned to us for monitoring was calm.
the war continued mainly in the south and, for the moment, the new recruits
At West Point, they only had to watch and practice, and we did not receive any more orders.

I volunteered for the night shift, from ten to two, at the far end.
northern, the guard that no one else wanted, although some others took out the
shorter straw and took the closest seats to the chain.
It served as an excuse to sleep when the cabin was relatively empty.
and leave the barracks when most of the men were going to bed. And my
bathroom and latrine habits went unnoticed. The stench of the soldiers in
reduced spaces as temperatures rose until June, as well as their
the tendency for nocturnal misadventures was not something I missed, and it was in
one night like this when General Paterson approached my post, surprising
the line with an inspection.
I shouted as I had been ordered: "Who goes there?" — and he invited me to
to rest. I hadn't seen him since our arrival, except from afar, and I was surprised.
once more its size.
 He was tall, much taller than me, and broad-shouldered. He wasn't wearing a hat or
uniform, and in the light of the moon it was faded; his pale shirt and his trousers
cinnamon color gave him the appearance of a man who couldn't sleep instead of a
official taking an exam. The features of his face were shadowed and his
darkened expression. It comforted me to know that mine would be too.
-You have been on water duty every night, soldier. Surely there is
Anyone else who can take a shift.
I was surprised that he knew it, even though my position was the closest to the House.
Roja, where he resided. — I volunteered for this guard duty, sir — I said,
keeping my voice soft and low. —I like tranquility.
— Me too — he said. I thought he would continue, but he hesitated. — Do you
Do you remember your name?

I am Robert Shurtliff, General — my stomach twisted as always

that lied shamelessly. —Company of Captain Webb.
Ahh. That's it. Robbie. Robbie and Jimmy.

He stopped by my side, with his eyes fixed on the river, and he said nothing more during
several long minutes. His melancholy was palpable, and my own throat began to
throbbing, the need to acknowledge her almost unbearable loss. I sought something that
say anything to distract both of us.
Have you read Gulliver's Travels, General? I blurted out.

She jumped and looked at me, as if she had forgotten I was there. — Yes
he responded, almost surprised.
What's your favorite?

He fell silent for a moment, as if he were reflecting. —I don't know.

I never understood why Gulliver kept loosening the ties. Home is the only place
in which I feel good.
I couldn't connect it. The home was, in a way, as mythical a place as
the Liliput of Gulliver or the land of the horses. I had never had one of my own.
-Where is your house? -I asked, although I already knew.

My house is in Lenox, although I have barely been there enough.

the last six years so that it feels familiar to me. I was born and raised in Connecticut.
 I wanted him to keep talking. I don't know why. Certainly, it wasn't my way.
With every word, I was putting myself in danger.

—And before that? —I asked. —Where is your people from?

He studied me. I could feel his eyes on my soft cheeks, and I maintained the gaze.
set apart, observing the land slope that led to the water, a diligent
watchman on duty.
My great-grandfather fled from Scotland, from a place called Dumfriesshire, during
the reign of King James II. I have exchanged some high lands for others.
I knew what he was referring to. They called the Point area 'the highlands of '
Hudson, the hated highlands, to be exact.
I would like to see Scotland,
-I would do it too -there was a hint of irony in the general's voice, and again
I took the opportunity to chat.
It's strange, isn't it? That one's story can be wrapped in a
place. That one's ancestors may work the land and walk the
hills for thousands of years and yet it seems as strange to us as the
pyramids of Egypt or the streets of Paris. Have you ever been to Paris?
I have never been to Paris. No.
I would also like to go there - I forced myself to stop talking, and he didn't.
he brought up the topic again. I realized that I hadn't lifted his spirits or...
had distracted from her sadness.
You shouldn't be here,
to startle me.
Sir?
You shouldn't be here,
I saw. A tall, beardless boy, with a voice that had not yet matured.
shoulders that had not widened with the years.
No, sir. I am already grown. And I know why I am here - telling the truth felt
sweet, and my words sounded with the conviction of testimony. If I knew nothing
more, I knew that.
 Why? Why are you here? - it seemed like an existential question, and
just a particular one for me. It was as if I asked to better understand itself.
himself, and the anguish I sensed underscored his words.
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are
created equal, who are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights,
that among them are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness — I began.
He huffed in a low voice, as if he had been surprised again, and I made a
pause in my recitation.
“Have you memorized it?” she asked.

Yes, sir.
Why?
Because I believe in it.
He grunted, considering it. -Do you know everything?

I have not memorized all the insults and usurpations, word for word. The
the list is long.
—Yes, it is —he laughed, though it was barely more than a chuckle. I considered it a
victoria.
He sighed and we fell silent again. "Will you recite to me what you can?"
remember? —he asked. —I need you to remind me.
Of course, I said, although I was rusty and scared. I reminded myself again.
I myself that the general would not find me -could not find me- familiar.
I did not know my face or my shape, not even my fondness for reciting. But I ended up with
feeling, and he squeezed my shoulder in a sign of gratitude, one hand
heavy that rested only for a moment.
I resisted, I feared that they would discover me, I feared that my own bones would
They will betray. The others hugged and slept huddled together half of the time.
Yo no. No les permitía -ni a mí mismo- ninguna familiaridad.
Well done, young man. Well done. You have the gift of oratory.
It was as if Reverend Conant had come to visit, and I felt
soaked in a sudden nostalgia for my old friend.
 Thank you, General.
She turned towards the Red House and wished me good night.
Good evening, sir.
Hopefully tomorrow it will be someone else's turn, he ordered while walking away.

"Yes, sir," I said to him. But I had no intention of obeying him.

You're still here, Shurtliff,

mandatory question: —Who's coming there? —although I could perfectly see that
it was him.

I'm sorry, sir. I prefer it. It’s too hot to sleep.

That's right. And it will only get hotter. The bugs are big.

They haven't bothered me.

—No?
I am not sweet enough, I replied frankly. It was always what
they said the Thomas brothers.

I didn't mean to be funny, but the general burst out laughing, and I exhaled,
happy to see you in a better mood.
He has a penetrating gaze, soldier. It contradicts his age and his face of
child.
My students said that I was formidable.

—Students? —the surprise again.

Yes, sir. He was a school teacher before coming here.
Her gaze narrowed. Again, she didn't believe me.
 There was no one else to do it. All the men, the most educated,.
they had gone —it was the truth, but I shuddered at seeing that it matched what he
I could know about Deborah.

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, as if he were considering everything.

before committing to speak.

—I was a teacher once too, after my father's death and before.

of marrying. It seems like it was a lifetime ago —she said, and her sadness returned like a
shroud.
I am very sorry about your wife, General Paterson,
He/She remained motionless.

I mean… from Mrs. Paterson. Forgive me. I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry.
A lot for you and your children. Your loss is felt... by many... of your
men. They are aware of their sacrifice... to be here.
I had ruined everything.
I mentally berated myself, cursing my stammering tongue and my heart.
pulsating. He had mentioned his marriage and I had taken the opportunity.
I shouldn't have said anything. I should have written a letter instead, a
letter from Deborah Samson, and having poured out my heart and my affection for the
charming Elizabeth, just like my pain for him, a man I valued
deeply and whom I admired enormously.
This man was not the friend of our long correspondence. This man
He was not my dear Mr. Paterson. This man was a brigadier general, a man
under my command and that of all the other men of West Point, and a man with the
I wouldn't have dared to speak at all if I hadn't met him.
He did not respond to my careless condolences. He simply stood there.
with hands intertwined behind the back, looking at the water. The night was so clear and
calm as the stars were reflecting on the surface, creating the illusion of being
above them, looking down from a divine position. It reminded me of
my dreams.
It's like flying,
silence. I didn't care if he thought I was stupid. Maybe it was better that way.
I would do it. —It gives me hope.
 He/She said nothing.

What gives you hope, sir? I pressed gently.

Exhaló. —La idea de que va a terminar —dijo, con voz pesada.

I considered his words only long enough to reject them.
"No," I said, and my vehemence surprised us both.

—No?
No, sir - I swallowed hard. - If it were only an ending that you desire, you wouldn't be
here. None of us would be.
He shook his head. "You are bold, Shurtliff. I guarantee it."
Hope requires audacity, sir.
He grunted, and I got to the point. -In Proverbs it says: 'Hope
Deferred sickness of the heart: but when desire arrives, it is a tree of life.
that's why I'm here.

I had shared so many things about my life with Elizabeth, and I knew that she had
I shared many of my letters with John. He knew Deborah Samson - my
history and my heritage-, so I could hardly tell the same stories. I
I felt lost, stripped of the things I felt proud of. William
Bradford was a kind of hero and I wanted to reclaim him. But it belonged to Deborah,
and now I was Robert. I walked carefully.
My mother once told me the story of a woman who came to this country...
a long time ago. He had left his son behind in the hope that he could
to meet with them when they settled. Her husband had gone to seek refuge
on land and she waited on the boat. She had been away for too long and feared that
would have died. I was cold and exhausted, and I didn't want to go on without him. He
I drowned.
He breathed heavily, his shoulders sagged and his chin fell.
about his chest. He had said something wrong. Again. The dejection and death
from an abandoned wife for too long, it hit close to home.
It was an ending she was looking for, I said, trying to save my story. -No
hope. But it is hope that will give you the desire to continue. You must
to resist her, to that despair. When God takes you, let Him take you.
When He takes you away from this earthly world, then you will be able to rejoice. But
As long as you breathe, as long as your heart beats and the sun rises, you must continue fighting.

Every word he uttered was sincere, but when Paterson raised the
head, his attitude had not changed.
You're nothing but a child, she whispered. You have no idea what you're talking about nor...
Where have you been?
I bit my lip and swore that I would bite my tongue, even if it killed me.

But you have a way with words, I conceded. And lately, I can't stand my...
own company.
I swallowed an apology and shifted the musket to the other shoulder. Neither did I.
I wouldn't discuss or defend myself. If I wanted company, I would provide it. But I would remain silent.

Will you recite it again, Shurtliff? he asked, and my vow of silence

it instantly faded over the rocks of my desire to please him.

—The statement, sir?

The statement.
-From the beginning?
From the beginning.

The following night was very similar. The general stopped, exchanged
some courtesies and he asked me if I wanted to recite the statement. Sometimes I
he would pause after the preamble, sometimes adding his voice to certain words, as if
They worried him. Or they gave him strength. I didn't ask him.

Do you want to hear something else, sir? I said after the fifth night in a row of
the same recitation. —A sonnet or a scene or a piece of the Apocalypse?
Oh my God, no. Do you want me to jump off this ledge?

I was left speechless, not knowing if he was joking. —Doesn’t he like sonnets,
General?
 I don't like the Book of Revelation.
I love it, I breathed. 'And no man in heaven, nor on earth, nor
beneath the earth, was able to open the book, nor look at it' —that was my favorite part. —It's
wonderful. The beasts with wings, the four horsemen, and the heavens being rolled up
like a parchment. What a story!

—The earthquakes, the lamentations, the sun turning to ash, the moon
becoming blood?
Yes!
You are a very strange guy, Shurtliff.
Yes, sir. I know - I had no idea how truly strange she was.
He started to laugh, a slow rumble that turned into a lustful howl.
with the head tilted back.

—Sir?
She covered her face with her palms, still laughing.
I didn't know whether to laugh with him or to bring my palm to my forehead to
check if I had a fever.
He patted me on the shoulder and straightened my hat, still
laughing, and something moved in my chest.

The moon bathed her face and joy illuminated her eyes. She could almost see their color.
-a pale, wintry blue- and when she laughed, her teeth were white and strong behind
from well-formed lips. I immediately averted my gaze.
"There is also a rainbow throne," I murmured. "Harp and jars of gold with
incense, which are the prayers of the saints.
- Yes. And a bottomless pit and locusts as big as horses with hair of
woman and dandelions.
I would like to see all those things, I confessed, taking a furtive glance at her.
smiling face.
And what about hunger, plague, and death?
 But all those things come on great war horses, I shouted. It's
terrible... and... fantastic.
He shook his head and said goodnight to me, and his laughter echoed among the
trees while returning to the Red House.
I spent the rest of my shift bewildered by the new and strange.
emotions I felt in my chest.
It's your appearance - I whispered. - It's just admiration for your appearance.

The strange feeling resurfaced and I suppressed it with an unyielding denial.

I didn't like men. Not in that way. They had never seemed to me.
intriguing and I had never harbored the childhood fantasy of falling in love. The fact
that I would have noticed the shape of the general's lips was perplexing.
It's not at all what you expected, I said to myself. Their height and shape would be
notables for anyone. He was at least one meter eighty tall, and he was slim as
they are all -the effort, the work, and the war take fat away from men-, but
that only made his musculature more pronounced. He wasn't wearing a wig and his
his hair was a reddish chestnut that seemed to have been red in his youth.
It was charming to behold.
I frowned. This realization did not calm me. I had never had a
a similar reaction in front of anyone. I had never noticed a man's appearance. Nor
the men of Middleborough, neither the Thomas brothers, nor the men of my
company. My heart had never raced nor had I ever trembled.
stomach when they were near.
It's because you got scared,
It was like this. It's just the surprise that has made you tremble inside. That's all.

It was as good an explanation as any other, and I accepted it with

Obstinacy. —That's all it is —I insisted in front of the river. But it continued to worry me.
 Chapter 11

WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS

General Paterson did not come either the following night or the next, and my company
he received a new assignment far from West Point. The last time I saw him before
leaving, I was inspecting the garrison with Colonel Kosciuszko, an engineer
Polish military officer who had developed the design and was still overseeing the construction.
of fortifications in the highlands.
I saw them walk away, the colonel gesturing from one side to the other, pointing out new
reducers and batteries, Paterson nodding his head. They were of similar age and
both had reddish tails under their hats, but that was where their similarities ended.
similarities. The general was big where the colonel was small, the general was
calm and self-sufficient where the colonel was lively and loquacious.

Colonel Kosciuszko also resided in the Red House, along with his aide,
a young African man of about twenty years named Agrippa Hull, who accompanied
the two officers on their own horse. Hull had a dazzling smile, a
a direct gaze and a bearing on the shoulders that denoted self-confidence,
as if he knew what his place was, or maybe he didn't care. Everyone treated him
I called it Grippy, but I thought it was too impressive for that.
nickname and I decided to call him Mr. Hull if I ever had the opportunity to address him
he.
He was one of the favorites of the Point, although I didn't know him yet. I wanted
do it. Elizabeth had mentioned it once in a letter. She was born free in
Stockbridge, near Lenox, and had helped John Paterson to form a militia.
local en 1775. He had been appointed as the aide-de-camp to Colonel Kosciuszko at
request of this, but it was with the general whom I was engaged, and the
Two men had stayed together for much of the war. It was
almost as intrigued by him as by the general, and I wrote a long letter to Elizabeth
in my diary, describing it in great detail and asking questions that I could
to do it if I had the opportunity.
 It was rumored that the construction of a great hall would soon begin.
Colonel Kosciuszko had already drawn the plans. He would give them to the stationed soldiers.
in the peaceful highlands something to do now that the fight was almost
completely in the south.
Pero yo no me salvé, ni tampoco los hombres de mi compañía.
Between the highlands and the city of New York, in the hands of the British,
there was a thirty-mile strip of arable land known as land of
nobody. The territory, centered around Westchester, was considered an area
neutral, but those who lived there had continually found themselves caught between the
warring armies, their properties taken or burned, their livestock stolen,
their harvested crops were confiscated. Most people had fled.
On our march towards the Point, we crossed the area to reach the Hudson.
Little remained of what once had been a vast and prosperous community. The
fertile countryside, rich and covered with grass, lay dormant. The houses were
burnt and abandoned, the numbered fences, the rotten fruit on the trees and
The scavengers roamed the countryside.
The Westchester Militia, made up of men from the area, received from
General Washington the task of protecting the area. He had assigned units of
light infantry to assist the militia and challenge all British troops that
invaded beyond their lines, but six years as a battlefield had
reduced the area to little more than fallow fields and hunting grounds.

Those who could not leave were harassed by a brigade of loyalists and
British deserters led by a man named James DeLancey, a colonist and
formerly sheriff of Westchester.
DeLancey and his vultures and opportunists wore red coats and
they considered British soldiers, but they were more akin to the Hessians - soldiers of
salary - which, to the regular British, although DeLancey held the rank of
colonel. Entire communities had declared their loyalty to the Crown with the
hope that DeLancey's brigade would save their properties and their lives.
The acquisition and transfer of supplies had become the true
battle of the highlands, but it was the events of Pines Bridge, not much
after my arrival at Point, those who had been the last straw.
DeLancey and his men had attacked a defensive position held by the
Rhode Island regiment on the north bank of the Croton River, near Yorktown,
in Westchester. The Rhode Island regiment was formed in part by
African soldiers, and Colonel Christopher Greene, their white commander and
cousin of General Nathanael Greene, had been dragged out of his tent,
mutilated and murdered. His body was found a mile from the skirmish and
he thought that the excessive violence exerted on him was a punishment for enlisting in
African Americans and encourage them to rebel against the Crown.

At the end of June, a light infantry unit, of which I was a part,

he was sent to explore enemy positions and troop activities,
including those of DeLancey's men. A shipment was expected of
goods on the coast of Connecticut, and my unit would patrol the entire area
for as long as necessary with the hope of securing the much-awaited
supplies. It would be the first chance for combat for many of us, and
The men around me vibrated with an enthusiasm I could not grasp.
Even Jimmy was excited, and Beebe couldn't contain himself.
I'm going to get myself a red jacket,
last one to do it.
Carry little luggage - we will move quickly and often - and tie it up.
Good. We may not return until the summer is over —the captain told us.
Webb.
I didn't speak with the general before I left and I felt foolish for wishing I could
to say goodbye. In a moment of weakness, I wrote a brief letter from Deborah
Samson, I dated it April 1st and included it in the pile of correspondence that I had.
I have helped my bunkmates to write for their own loved ones. I
I delivered it to the postman myself, sure that it would eventually reach the table of the
general without anyone noticing. If for some reason I didn't return, which is a
part of me hoped, wanted him to know what Elizabeth -and he- had meant
for me. I was careful and brief, but I felt better for having done it.

Instead of heading towards Westchester, a detachment of about fifty

We were held while Colonel Jackson's regiment was preparing.
to head south. We saw how they left in waves, hoping to go in the
rear guard, although as light infantry, we should have been at the front.
We waited all day, ready to leave, only to spend another night in the
barracks. None of us knew where we were going and Captain Webb did not
it said nothing about the delay. At the last moment, we were told to hold on.
the blue coats in the backpacks and they gave us brown and green hunting shirts.
They took the feathers from the tricorn hats and gave them to some men.
wide-brimmed felt or straw hats.
Whatever our mission was, it was clear that we had to move on.
unnoticed and that the fewer people knew about the plan, the better. That included us.
to us. The troop movements were negotiable intelligence, and it could not be
trust no one, not even one's own troops.
We traveled ten miles a day, constantly advancing northward, with
the river on our right, until at sunset on the fifth day we arrived at the
outside of Kingston, a settlement located fifty miles above
We waited for nightfall to enter the city. At dusk we
they put us in an empty warehouse near the dock and ordered us to wait. The only
The one who seemed to know what was happening was Captain Webb, and he did not speak.

Kingston had been burned to the ground by the British in '77

to destroy the wheat warehouses of the army stored in the city. The
granaries had been rebuilt, but the residents who had returned
they received our presence, although the U.S. control of the Northern river
until Albany provided them with much more protection than they enjoyed the
communities of the lower river valley.
We took refuge for two days, waiting for reasons that we do not
they explained, but the rest was necessary and the restroom, complete with a door
with a latch, a relief. My toenails had turned black from the march
from Worcester and some had started to fall. I was sure that the
the march back to the Point would end them.
But we did not go back the way we had come. We did not march at all.
On our second night in Kingston, we bagged and loaded two barges.
with grain from a nearby silo, moving silently up and down the dock
of load, taking turns in armed watch until the helmets were
full and our backs grinding. Then they moved us to the other shore of the
river, to a slaughterhouse, where we found barrels of salted meat in quantities.
such that it was necessary to acquire a fourth barge to be able to load them all.

Then our detachment was divided among the ships, a dozen of

men or so on each deck, where we waited for the tide to change, with
the tense nerves, the loaded and drawn muskets. The Hudson flowed in
both ways, six hours north followed by another six hours south, a
enormous inhalation and exhalation that moved cargo up and down its shores.
Whatever Captain Webb feared, the operation was carried out without
setbacks, and at dawn we set off downstream towards West Point, taking advantage of
the change of the current and advancing quickly. I had never been on board.
of a boat of any kind, and the experience excited me. I stayed in the
railing, amazed by the landscape and the speed of the journey. What had us
We took days on foot, we did it in hours, and we docked at noon under Fort Clinton.
with our mission accomplished. Captain Webb was exuberant with relief, as if
we would have achieved something great.

--He did it --was all he said. --Paterson did it again.

We did not stay at the garrison, but we split into two more groups.
small and we spent the next ten days moving slowly south
to explore the British line.
I couldn't wash myself, but no one did. The smell of the detachment would alert...
the redcoats of our approach when we were still kilometers away
from a distance, although I doubt they smelled much better. As we had done
on our first march, we slept with our clothes on and washed what we
we could -the arms, the neck and the face- without undressing or getting our clothes wet. Not
It was nice to march with wet clothes, and no one took the time to swim.
peacefully in no man's land.
I had no appetite. The heat and the tension of the circumstances filled me with
belly. I just wanted water, and often I would give my daily ration of rum to one of my
companions. I was forced to eat to keep my strength up, but I had to
choke me. The ration of bread and meat, which we sometimes took out and sometimes did not,
according to our position between the camps, it was enough for my
needs, but the men around me were starving
constantly.
We observed the British pickets for several days to find a
weak spot in the line and then we moved around it, reaching Harlem,
only eight miles from the city center. We made our observations without
incidents - if thirst, fatigue, and three days lying among the bushes and
the other three moving without sleeping can be considered unworthy of comment - and
we returned back to White Plains about a month after
having left the Point, informing about what we had seen.
It wasn't much.
The bulk of the British forces was still in the south fighting in other
campaigns, and the movements of those who remained behind the lines in New
They were slow and careless, with no evident purpose of doing anything beyond that.
to survive another summer.
Captain Webb said: - They are as desperate for supplies as
us, and it's going to be much worse when winter arrives. The whole colony, all the
country has been stripped.

—It is not cultivated enough. Only one fights —Noble said, in a somber tone. No
he said, not with the captain nearby, but Noble regretted having enlisted. He had
woman and two small children at home. She didn't talk much about them. She almost shared
as little as I do, but he had asked me to write him a letter, a letter
For "my dear wife, Sarah," in which he mentioned their two children, Jesse and
Paul, and he expressed his love to them:

I shouldn't have come. I should have stayed with you and have
contributed in another way. But pride and shame are tools
poderosas, así que aquí estoy, lejos de ti y de nuestros hijos, lejos de la tierra que
needs my attention. I only pray to be able to return soon, with my duty fulfilled and the
peace of mind.
Pride was a curious thing. It made some men leave and others stay.
They will remain. My father's pride had made him selfish. Noble's pride had
done the opposite. Like so many others, he had been driven by the need to
do their part.
I wasn't sure where I fit on that scale. Maybe somewhere.
intermediate. I wanted to do my part, to take on a new role, but the need
to prove myself, to conquer each task, to overcome every obstacle and
winning... those things fed me more than anything else.
If it had been a pure strength competition, I would have lost. If we
we would have faced each other in hand-to-hand combat, day after day, running
for our lives or ending them, it would have fallen. But, as happens with
so many things in life, the tasks assigned to my detachment were
more like contests of endurance and determination than of physical skill. And in
In both cases, I refused to participate. And in both, I refused to be defeated.

We met with the other half of our company in White Plains and we
we headed towards the Hudson, in the Tappan Bay area, not far from
Tarrytown, where we camped and wait for new instructions. For our
Surprise, General Paterson and Colonel Jackson were already there, with the tents.
mounted, waiting for us.
General Paterson told us that we would stay one more day in the
Tarrytown camp before heading east, towards the border of
Connecticut, along with Colonel Ebenezer Sproat, who was camped halfway
mile below us with detachments from the Second of Massachusetts,
the old regiment of Nat. He didn't know which company Phineas was in. They had
intended for another place, and for the other boys too, although the regiments
they had been reorganized and reorganized throughout the war. I hadn't seen
none of the brothers, thanks to Providence, but to Colonel Sproat.
The son of the old innkeeper of Middleborough was as tall as a tree and
stood out from the others. He had made a name for himself, and Captain Webb had
I sang their praises, but I was distrustful. I didn’t want to travel with their company. I
I had known -although from afar- for too many years, and I feared that he might have heard.
stories of home and recognized me.
My company appreciated the break, but I spent the hours of my shift in
patrolling with my stomach in knots, not letting the moon impress me
still, the soft air and the croaking of the frogs. When Beebe relieved me before
time, coming out from between the trees, I turned, with my hands on the weapon and a scream
surprise in the throat. The guard was reduced now that we had returned to
our own lines, but there was still a man stationed on each side.
Don't shoot, Robbie. It's just me.
You arrive early.
I was awake. I thought I could stand guard if I wasn't going to sleep.
"It's calm," I said. "Only the bullfrogs are awake."
--Are you calling me a toad? --he joked, rubbing his cheeks. All the
company, except for Jimmy and me, needed a shave. Captain Webb
we were embarrassed by our scruffy appearance when we arrived at the
camp, but General Paterson had ignored his apologies,
although her eyes had stopped on my face for a moment.
I shook my head and let Beebe grumble. He loaded his musket,
opening the cartridge with the teeth and priming it before closing the trigger
pour the rest of the gunpowder into the barrel. He added the bullet and the paper and rammed it in
the bedroom.
— You don ’t seem so young and handsome anymore either — she murmured. — You have the skin.
You've tanned and the sun has faded your hair. If I am a toad, you are a lizard.
I rubbed my face, not understanding. I had washed all the parts that
they were not covered.
Now you have a bad face, although your eyes shine even more. It would be better if
the closures or the moths will surround your head —I was joking, but he didn't laugh
about me or about himself as he used to do.

The idea that my appearance might have changed encouraged me. Perhaps the
General Paterson had only noticed the difference.
Come on, Robbie. Sleep a little bit,
melancholy was pronounced.

My shift doesn't end for a while —I offered him. —I will stay if

you don't care.
He shrugged, moved the musket, and looked at the moon.
Do you have a girl somewhere, Rob? -she asked suddenly.
No.
He snorted. —I don't believe it.

I knew I shouldn't let Beebe annoy me and I ignored his taunts.

Talking to you about this is like talking to my sister.
I didn't like that appreciation at all and immediately I prepared to
disprove him. — What exactly are we talking about, Beebe? — I said.
Do you need advice?

He mocked again. —Of you, boy? I doubt it.

 You will be surprised.

Have you ever touched a girl? - she exclaimed, and Deborah Samson, in all
with malice, she decided to respond to him.

Of course, I said, with honesty resonating in my words.

—Liar —she spat.

It's the truth, I said, but I shrugged it off, leaving it be.
he became restless and finally broke the silence.

—I am not talking about your arm, Shurtliff. Or about your hand.

I didn't think so - the devil on my shoulder howled with laughter and the angel
felt completely justified.
Have you touched a breast?

I clenched my teeth to avoid smiling. —Yes. Many times.

He shook. —Many?
Yes. A lot. More times than I could count.
You are just a... a boy with a baby face.
I shrugged.
Have you seen it all? Every part? Without clothes?

—Yes.
—A real woman? Really? Not a girl running around?
A real woman.

He looked at me as if I had just sprouted a crown. —Have you slept next to

one?
I have done it.
Have you put your goatee on one? Her voice was so low that she wasn't sure.
If I heard correctly, it took me a minute to process what I wanted to say.
 —No —of course, I couldn't affirm that, and I was amazed once again by the
unlimited names that men had for their parts. He had learned a
a dozen of them, at least.
"Why not?" he squinted.
Eh...
Did they not offer it to you?

Something like that, I said, and the smile that I had been holding back broke through.
cheeks. I hadn't had so much fun since I beat Phineas in that race.
Beebe's shoulders slumped and his chin hit his chest.
Me neither. But I dream of it. I've heard it's like a little piece of heaven.
--he said, melancholic.

I grunted, my need to laugh struggling with my sincere sympathy. It seemed so

sad.
That's what scares me,
I became stiff, sure that he was going to confess something to me about the coupling.
that I didn't want to hear. I guess I deserved it.

I'm afraid I'll die without knowing, he lamented. I've been like this all day.
a strange feeling.
My joy vanished and the demon on my shoulder disappeared. I looked to the sky and
I searched in the forests that surrounded us, trying to invoke words that
could comfort him. It was strange. Terror took over all my actions,
pero no era el mismo que sentían los que me rodeaban. Oh, yo también compartía
the fears of my comrades - cowardice, death, suffering - but I had
more fear of being discovered than of anything else, and that served me as
a great distraction from all the other horrors. In fact, I suppose it made me
bolder than it would have been under other circumstances.
If you die... you will not only experience a little bit of heaven. It will be heaven itself.
Maybe you don't need to try it because everything will be so good.

Do you believe it? - he seemed doubtful... and hopeful too.

 I am not sure what I believe. But whoever made this
the world understands beauty and love. All you have to do is look at your
around to feel it. And I don't think it will ever end. What God does, is for
always —I cited. —I imagine that death is like moving to a new station.
—That's in Ecclesiastes, isn't it? —he asked.
I nodded. —"For everything there is a season, and a time for
every purpose under heaven.
Yes. I suppose it could be true. Are you going to be a reverend when this
Finished? You could do it with all the Bible verses you know.
I considered it, imagining myself standing in front of the pulpit of the reverend's church.
Conant. Somehow I thought it would be harder to be a man of God than a
man of war, and that in a few years he would not be able to pass for a mere boy.
But being a reverend attracted me.

I would like to— I confessed.

--Then it's better that you stop messing around--he whispered, smiling.--No
more samples from the ball store.
I blinked, unsure if I had understood, and then I remembered what I had said to him.
said.

He sighed, but his resentment had vanished. —Thank you for the chat, Robbie.
Don't let the fish take the straw while you wash yourself. We caught a few.
This afternoon. They were pecking.

I choked and he laughed under his breath, regaining his humor. I suppose he had
an advantage: I was not afraid of losing my straw.

Make sure Noble and Jimmy are awake. It's their turn next.
Beebe added. —I am the captain on duty until we return to the Point.
Dawn was approaching and the camp would soon be stirred, although the
A plan to wait one more day would delay their rise. Many of us do not
we had slept more than nods and head nods for several days. The morning would be
slow. Nevertheless, I didn't want an audience, and sitting by the fire to dry the clothes would be
much nicer if the sun had not risen yet.
I woke Jimmy and made my way through the sleeping men until I found
a Noble. He was already up, putting on his boots, and I saw how he grabbed his musket,
he fit the bayonet into its place and headed towards his position on the riverbank.
Jimmy tardó más en seguirlo, pero una vez que hubo salido del campamento, cogí
my backpack and my blanket -it also needed to be washed- and I headed towards the stream.
I needed to sleep, but I couldn't go another day without showering.

The stream only reached up to the chest at its deepest point and had about
three meters wide. It opened into the Hudson about twenty meters to the west,
if anything, but it was a good place to bathe not far from the camp. I
I took off my boots, searched for the soap, and waded a few meters before kneeling down and
dive myself up to my neck. I began to wring myself out and wash, sliding my hand
under the billowing shirt and loose shorts to rub my armpits and the parts
you lower yourself before attacking the clothes. The band that surrounded my breasts was still tight and
tied; the proximity of my company and the dwindling time forced me to
washing it while wearing it, rubbing the soap on the outside, as I had done.
a dozen times before. If she could, she would exchange it for the dry one she was carrying in the
backpack. If not, I would manage.
I had been at it for a few minutes, frantic as always, scrutinizing the
darkness in search of unwanted company signals without losing sight of
Jimmy, who was watching higher up the stream. He hadn't looked at me even once,
even though I had made sure it had nothing to do with it. I was sitting down
they had their backs to me and, by the way he was slumped, I doubted he could see anything
more than the back of the eyelids.
I had just rinsed the soap from my hair when something caught my attention
displacement and a remodeling of the darkness, a little beyond the picket
of Jimmy. As he watched, the riders began to converge, moving towards
along the opposite side of the stream. The trees cast long shadows that
they were being covered, but there were many, their guns were drawn and not
they were Continentals. I pressed my lips together before screaming and retreated until my
shoulders touched the shore, tying the ropes under the water, terrified that
any movement would draw her eyes towards me and equally terrified of
lose my underwear when I stand up. Jimmy kept his head down and the
hunched back.
I slipped away along the shore, behind the small outcrop of rocks that was there.
specifically chosen to have some intimacy, although it had never been
I imagined needing coverage like this. I put on the horn straps of
gunpowder and the cartridge box on my head, I made notches in the belt and
I aimed with the musket at the rider in the center. Firing my weapon would be the most
quick to alert my detachment, but I wasn't going to waste a bullet, and I could
make them disperse, knowing that they had lost the element of surprise. I had
doubts about my actions for half a second and then I discarded them. Their coats
they were red, their movements stealthy and their intentions clear. The images of the
Colonel Greene being taken out of his tent and massacred cemented my
determination. Those were the tactics of the DeLancey Brigade, and they were not after
our lines to negotiate a treaty.
I pulled the trigger and I think a man fell, although I didn't stop to
to assure me. I left the shore and ran towards the camp, separated from the
raiders through the trees and the terror. The bullets began to whistle and to
snap over my head, and I didn't stop to put on my boots or to put on the
coat. The wet clothes stuck to me and my hair stuck to my cheeks and I
I was bleeding from my back, but none of the Thomas brothers could have caught me
left behind at that moment.
 "How do you know so much about Paterson, Beebe?" asked Jimmy.

Do you think soldiers don't gossip? The ranks are worse than the ladies in
a room. They are worse than a picnic in the church. Poor Paterson has been carrying so much
time in this struggle that it is a miracle that they have not named it after a
strong.

— Ésa no es su forma de ser — replicó un hombre mayor llamado Peter

Knowles, a reengaged one. —He has never cared much about glory. That's why he
he is well-liked by men and General Washington trusts him. He does not have an ego.
extravagant. Not like Arnold or some of the others.
"Isn't she a bit young?" I asked, still unable to believe that this was my
John Paterson.
--Look who’s talking-- Beebe snorted.

He is the youngest brigadier general in the entire army,

—Except for Lafayette, but we won’t count him, being French.
As the general approached, all conversation ceased. All backs turned.
they straightened up and all the gazes swayed.
He/She wouldn't recognize me. We had never seen each other. He/She had never seen me, nor I him/her.
he. But I knew him. And he knew me, as well as anyone on earth knew me.
I knew, and suddenly I was so scared that I could barely stand up.
The emotion grew in my throat and throbbed behind my eyes. I blinked.
furiously, outraged by my sudden loss of composure. I had
prepared for a possible sighting of one of the Thomas, although none
of their companies was parked at the Point, but Elizabeth's John me
I had been caught by surprise. It hadn't even occurred to me that he was here, and
I was dirty, I smelled, and I was so tired that I didn ’t dare to speak.
I began to pray, frantically, in silence.
In you, Lord, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame; deliver me in your
justice. Turn your ear toward me, come quickly to my aid; be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress that saves me.
The general passed by me, in his immaculate uniform and shiny boots, the
close enough that I could have put my hand on the shoulder strap,
that was at eye level. It measured half a head more than most of the
men. He reached the end of our company, chatting with Captain Webb and the
we returned back to White Plains about a month after
having left the Point, informing about what we had seen.
It wasn't much.
The bulk of the British forces was still in the south fighting in other
campaigns, and the movements of those who remained behind the lines in New
They were slow and careless, with no evident purpose of doing anything beyond that.
to survive another summer.
Captain Webb said: - They are as desperate for supplies as
us, and it's going to be much worse when winter arrives. The whole colony, all the
country has been stripped.

—It is not cultivated enough. Only one fights —Noble said, in a somber tone. No
he said, not with the captain nearby, but Noble regretted having enlisted. He had
woman and two small children at home. She didn't talk much about them. She almost shared
as little as I do, but he had asked me to write him a letter, a letter
For "my dear wife, Sarah," in which he mentioned their two children, Jesse and
Paul, and he expressed his love to them:

I shouldn't have come. I should have stayed with you and have
contributed in another way. But pride and shame are tools
poderosas, así que aquí estoy, lejos de ti y de nuestros hijos, lejos de la tierra que
needs my attention. I only pray to be able to return soon, with my duty fulfilled and the
peace of mind.
Pride was a curious thing. It made some men leave and others stay.
They will remain. My father's pride had made him selfish. Noble's pride had
done the opposite. Like so many others, he had been driven by the need to
do their part.
I wasn't sure where I fit on that scale. Maybe somewhere.
intermediate. I wanted to do my part, to take on a new role, but the need
to prove myself, to conquer each task, to overcome every obstacle and
winning... those things fed me more than anything else.
If it had been a pure strength competition, I would have lost. If we
we would have faced each other in hand-to-hand combat, day after day, running
for our lives or ending them, it would have fallen. But, as happens with
so many things in life, the tasks assigned to my detachment were
the maté slipped bonelessly to the ground, just like the first one, and I put myself back on
the axe on the belt, as insensitive as a child playing.
Shurtliff! - General Paterson was smeared with blood, and he had a
mosquito in each hand. He threw the one from the right as if he expected me to catch it.
I took it. Somehow I did, even though my palms were stained with
blood.
Get on that horse and go for Colonel Sproat. Tell him we are trapped.
here and they are shooting us.
I nodded and got on the dead man's horse. The saddle was warm where he had sat.
state and soaked in his blood. I almost fell on the other side. Captain Webb
he was running towards a line of trees to the north. Those who could were following at his heels,
Those who didn't, were left behind. The riders had come from the east, the Hudson.
I was to the west and Colonel Sproat to the south, by the stream. If the gang had
first assaulted, there would be no one to call or notify, but we would have
hearing and they would have informed us.
Come on, Shurtliff! General Paterson roared, and I dug my fingers
naked on the sides of the horse.
The men of DeLancey made a devastating sweep through the
camp, they turned around and came back again, shooting at the
soldiers fleeing barely awake, dressed only partially, and shooting
over their shoulders as they ran. The bullets whizzed by.
my head, and most likely they were from my compatriots. The horse that
had below shot forward, as eager as I was to escape from the
fight.
I didn't feel the journey, nor could I remember it when it was all over. It was like sleeping.
without dreaming, time without meaning, and none of it was real.

I had a wake-up call when I saw the bonfires and heard the screams.
It was dawn and the Sproat camp was bustling. I almost expected that I ...
they will shoot, running at full speed without blue that identified me, without company to
my side and riding the enemy's horse.
A warning shot was fired and I knew they had seen me. I did not slow down the
I started to march, but I began to shout, revealing my identity.
 I am Soldier Shurtliff, Fourth Regiment of Massachusetts, company of
Captain Webb. DeLancey has caught up with us and we are immobilized half a mile away.
to the north.

They had heard the gunshots and were already gathered, with Colonel Sproat standing tall.
among them. I reined in the horse and repeated to myself, gasping between words
word
"How many?" Colonel Sproat asked me, his hand on my reins.
Our detachment is about fifty men. Half of the
the company left last night. General Paterson is camping with us. He me
shipment. It was dark and we were caught off guard, but I would say that the attacking group was from
at least one hundred men, all on horseback.

A sentinel interrupted me, running from the river towards his comrades.
Colonel Sproat, British reinforcements in boats have been seen on the Hudson,
heading north —he shouted. —At least one whole company. Maybe more.
I have to go back, I shouted. They are going to be massacred.

"We need more men," said Sproat, shaking his head and
keeping my hand on my reins. —Continue south for four miles
-he told me. -There are always some detachments in Dobbs Ferry and also a
French field hospital. Tell them to hurry.
I nodded and spurred the horse, fearing it was already too late. I heard that
Sproat was gathering his men behind me.
Let's go! he roared, and a cry rose up, triumphant and anxious, and when I looked
They had run backwards.

I arrived in Dobbs Ferry in broad daylight, and the men marched towards
Tarrytown fifteen minutes after my arrival, with a car from a French surgeon
called Lepien and his staff bouncing behind them.
 When I returned, the battle had ended. Sproat and his men had
the tables have turned, and DeLancey's riders had fled, although the man himself
DeLancey was not among the dead or dying. No one chased them; no one
could. We were not cavalry. The brown horse with the three white stockings that I
I had taken in my ride before dawn the gray picket of the
general. He now belonged to the Continentals, and General Paterson said that
it would also be taken to the Point. There was not enough forage for the cattle or the
cavalry in the hills surrounding the garrison, and most of the livestock
It was kept in Peekskill, but I made sure they gave it something to drink and took it away.
the blood-soaked mount before leaving it.
I didn't look in the saddlebags. I didn't want to know anything about the man who had it.
mounted to the camp, the man with scared eyes and curly hair whose
life I had snatched.
I knew Noble was dead and I avoided the place where he had fallen. But it was me.
who found Jimmy. I went to look for him, knowing where he had been last
time, and almost sure of what I would find. He hadn’t even moved from the spot
next to the stream. It had a hole at the base of the throat and its musket was still
tied to the chest. He had his eyes closed as if he had walked to his place,
he would have leaned against a tree and gone back to sleep. The blood was soaking
his shirt and formed a puddle in his lap.
I couldn't take his body to the camp alone, so I went to seek help. It was
So when I found Beebe, he must have left his position in the corner.
northeast and bumping into the tip of a bayonet. If he had arrived at
to kill a red coat before dying, as I had sworn to do, I didn't know, but
his premonition had turned out to be true. He had died without knowing what heaven was.

Death had taken away her smile and her furrowed brow. Her face was gray and
it was eviscerated, and I crouched beside it for a moment, unable to
understand the reality of all that. The birds were chirping above me and the sky
blue era. That death could exist on such a beautiful day seemed to me
inconceivable.
General Paterson had seen it all before. I realized it by the calmness.
from his face and the position of his shoulders. His tent was requisitioned by Lepien and his
personal. At the end of the day, two men had survived the amputation and others
Two not. The rest of the injured were prepared to be taken to the hospital.
campaign near Dobbs Ferry. It was closer than the Point.
 Captain Webb's company had lost twelve men. Fifteen more
five were seriously injured. Our orders are to head east to
Supply listening was rescinded. Colonel Sproat would take another.
detachment and would continue without us. Some of his men had resulted
injured, but none lost their lives, and they returned to their camp to
prepare to leave the next morning.
Our dead were wrapped in their blankets and piled in the part
trasera de un carro. Iban a ser llevados a Point y enterrados allí, en el cementerio
overlooking the water. The dead of DeLancey were buried where they had
fallen, his shoes and gear were given to the men in greater need. The captain
Webb said that no one would pick up the bodies again. Not given the circumstances.
I took a shirt from Jimmy's bag and felt a crack opening up in me.
chest. I had been moving in a state of nothing since dawn. Without
pain. Without anger. Without horror. Nor shame. But when I grabbed Jimmy's shirt,
knowing that it was of no use to him and that mine was in tatters, nothing did
it became unbearable, and I left Noble's backpack to others, Beebe's one.
also, and I got caught up in work until night fell and the camp remained
in silence. The guard had doubled, but I was not among those assigned to the
service. General Paterson had intervened when I volunteered.
Not tonight, Shurtliff. Your nose is swollen and your eyes are...
"Putting on blacks," she said, furrowing her brow. "You've done enough already."

I touched my face, surprised, and Noble's bloodied face emerged in

my mind. He had hit me when he saved my life.
You are also covered in blood, my captain informed. Go wash yourself and
rest a little.
I lowered my gaze to my shirt, the right sleeve hanging in strips, but it was
the sight of my long and slender feet threatened my composure. They were
spattered with the blood of men I knew and of men I did not. I could not
deciding what was worse, being marked by those you had killed or by
those who had mattered to you.
My backpack was still by the river, my boots too, and for a moment I envied
what they had not seen, what they had avoided, waiting for me to return them
I entered the stream, as I had done the night before, and I began to
to wash myself, with my pain waving like blood in the water. It was then, when
the water separated the sleeve from my skin, when I realized that my arm
the right had a long and deep cut from underneath the shoulder to the middle
from the arm. It was deep enough to open it, but not so much that
expose the bone. It opened like a toothless smile, and I moaned in
protest signal, with tears falling down my cheeks, although there were more than
fear that is more about pain, more about worry than about misery. I would have to close it and
I would have to do it myself.
I didn't dare to ask for help. What if they asked me to take off my shirt or me
Did you accidentally tear open your chest? I ripped my sleeve and squeezed it. It would serve me for
sell it when it is dry.
I waited until I was left alone by the fire and the rest of the men went away.
They took him to sleep. I should have waited a little longer, but he was shaking.
from exhaustion and needed the light. My arm throbbed, my soul ached, and I had
nerves on edge. I wanted to finish once and for all.
I threaded the needle, tied the end, and soaked the thread in rum, with the hope
to protect me from the wound. It was my right arm, which would make it more
difficult, but I could sew with my left hand.
It's nothing but pain, I whispered, but I was shaking. I threaded the needle.
through my flesh, taking a single unsteady stitch, and I had to stop
to breathe and calm the stomach.
When I looked up, General Paterson was standing, watching.
the arm was exposed to his view. He could hardly hide it now.

—Shurtliff —greeted.
—General.
She had just returned from washing herself in the stream. Her sleeves were rolled up, the
wet hair and clean clothes. He went to the hospital store, but returned
immediately with a bottle of brandy and a bandage hanging from one hand.
He turned around a log and sat on it, in front of me.
"Why didn't you let Lepien attend to you?" he asked. "Or Dr.
Thatcher?
Dr. James Thatcher was stationed at the Point and assigned to the regiment of
Colonel Jackson, of whom I was now a part. But I had known him before. He was
from Plymouth County. I was at her house and brought her tea when she attended to the old lady.
widow Thatcher, who turned out to be his aunt. I hadn't seen her since I was ten years old,
but once she had looked at me briefly, as if she thought she should know me, and
The gaze had left me paralyzed for days. I didn't want him near me.
There were others who needed attention, I said. And I knew that I could.
take charge of my own points.
I'm skilled with the needle,

— Like me — I replied, but I was shaking and it hadn't happened.

unnoticed.
Put your hand on my shoulder, he demanded. I will do it.

I can do it myself, sir.

--Silence --he said, firmly. --Now drink this --he gave me the bottle of brandy.
It was half full.
I obeyed, swallowing a few drinks, but I refused when he tried.
make me drink more. I feared more that I would let my tongue loose than the pain of the
points.
I don't feel well - I protested. - I'm going to get sick.
It will hurt more without him.

Yes, sir. I suspect so.

He poured what was left in the bottle over my arm, and I barely flinched,
although it burned me like sacred fire.
A tough guy, right, Shurtliff?
I put my hand on his shoulder, raising my arm for him to see, and I
I handed over the threaded needle. She pinched the sides of the cut with her hand.
went to the right and started sewing with the left. She didn't hesitate, not even warned me. She
he got to work and pushed the needle and thread through my flesh, firmly and
security.
The push and pull of the needle through my skin was the worst part, but I closed
the eyes and I let myself rest in the pain and pleasure of relief. I just had to
to endure, not to execute, and my relief was even greater than my agony. I endured the
suffering without complaining.

—Jimmy was murdered —I whispered.

 Yes. I know.
-I was only sixteen years old.

Too young. Just like you.

I bit my denial. Jimmy wasn't like me, but it didn't matter. I looked at the
hands of the general, the line of X's that paraded down my arm.
You were right, sir.
I had almost finished and I was impressed by his work. I couldn't have done it.
better and, most likely, I would have done it quite worse. If the wound does not
it would improve immediately.

—About what? —he responded.

You are skilled with the needle.

He grunted.
And you were right about me.

He didn't raise his gaze from my arm, but he was listening.

I had no idea what I was talking about. No idea what I had gotten myself into.
involved.
None of us do it, she said softly. But today you have done it.
very good.
Jimmy Battles and Noble Sperin were my friends. John Beebe too, although
It drove me crazy and he liked to joke. They were my bunkmates, the men.
whom I knew best. And they are no longer here. The three died today.

Yes.
He did not speak of all the other lost - he had no doubt that he had witnessed
many over the years - neither tried to fill the silence, and I struggled to
maintain the same stoicism.
-What will happen next? -I asked, clenching my teeth to keep myself from
her lips would tremble. She wanted to know how she would endure the horrors that
they were warning, but he did not understand it.
 We will take them to the Point. There they will be buried - she tied the thread under the last one.
he made a stitch and used his knife to cut it close to my skin.
Do you have to write to their families?
— Yes. Those from my brigade. Pass me that bandage — I did so, and he rolled it up.
around my arm and tied the ends well.
But... what if you didn't know them?

I ask his mates. His captain. His colonel. I get to know them.
Then I write letters that nobody wants to receive.

None of the Thomases had been assigned to General Paterson's brigade.

The letters we had received had been from General Howe.
--I will help you --I said. --I helped many of them write letters home.
Thank you, Shurtliff,
He stood up and stroked the top of my head with his big hand, like
if I were a child or a loyal dog.
You must have laughed at my beautiful words and my inspiring ideas. I am a
foolish — I let go, with the humidity itching my nose. He hesitated and sat down again.

No. It's not nonsense. Not at all. What did you say? That the
Is hope something we have to keep alive? —He studied me. —Never.
I have heard truer words in my life.
I killed two men. Maybe more.
I have killed many.

I’m sorry.
He sighed heavily. -Yes, that's right.

They were trying to kill me. They killed my friends.

Yes. But you still feel it. It's a terrible burden to end a life.
Why did they attack?
We are at war.
I shook my head. —No. It's not because of that. They wanted something.
 He/She did not answer.

—No tenemos los suministros. El capitán Webb dijo que querían nuestras
provisions, but today we didn't have them —I protested.

They were not here for the supplies. Most likely they were
here for me.
Jadeé and he shivered.

—You?
He got up again and I followed him, pressing my arm against my chest.

He shook his head as if he regretted having spoken. —I am tired.

You too. Go to bed, Shurtliff. We have survived this day. I have no doubts.
that we will survive tomorrow too.
I saw him retire to a small shop that someone had set up among the
trees. No one was guarding its door or watching the surroundings, and suddenly
I felt fear for him. The groans of the wounded and the absence of the dead.
they clouded the night and I doubted I could sleep. I picked up my blanket and made my
bed next to his tent. If DeLancey returned for the general, I would be waiting.

31 de agosto de 1781
Dear Elizabeth,
We returned to the Point to set off again towards Kingston two days later. The
General Paterson had arranged another shipment of supplies that, given the attacks
from Colonel DeLancey and his brigade, it was a stroke of luck. The supplies from Connecticut
they never arrived and a detachment assigned to escort the wagons
he disappeared. Some think that the soldiers deserted or were bribed - or
threatened - to abandon the warehouses, but the men have
missing and also the merchandise.
Our second trip to Kingston did not go as well as the previous one, and we
we went with half after going through twice the problems. It is approaching
the winter and the war continues, although I am not sure if anyone knows why.
what.
My arm has healed quickly, thanks to the general, but my heart has
changed again. I miss my colleagues. I was well acquainted with loss, but
No, death and the two are not the same. I told the general that I did not regret the
men I killed, but he knew it wasn't like that. The pain has arrived, and I am
permanently altered.
Noble Sperin was obedient and brave. It occurred to me that he resembled a lot to
Nathaniel, and my mourning for both has become even more intense. How terrible.
waste of good men! In the time I have been a soldier, that is the lesson
what else has surprised me.
John Beebe was an adorable nuisance, but in many ways, his challenges me
they improved, their criticisms too. And like Phineas, he made me laugh. It's not something that
I've done a lot in my life. I've always been too intense. Laughing and playing me
I took time away from the things that motivated me, but Beebe brought out the rogue that
there is in me, and I am better for it.

They often put Jimmy Battles and me in the same bag because of our
"age," and we became a kind of couple, just like Jeremíah and I once were.
I told the general that Jimmy never complained, that he always encouraged and that he never had
fear, not even at the end. It will be a blessing for his mother to know that he died.
calmly and quickly, with very little suffering. For me, it is also a
comfort.
Since Tarrytown, I have dreamed of Jeremiah almost every night, and I fear that I
he may have had something happen to him and came to say goodbye to me. Or maybe
simplemente no puedo separar a los Thomas de mis camaradas caídos, y en sueños
they are the same thing. Everyone seems like brothers to me.

We have no new recruits. No one has taken the bunks of the fallen, and
What my bunkmates were like, I have a lot more space, but it's not
welcome space.
Autumn is already here. Like a prick, a drop of red blood appeared in
the hillside, and then another, and another, followed by a bit of gold and a pinch of
orange. Now the whole valley is on fire. The Point seemed glorious to me in
spring, but autumn is indescribable. I suspect that even winter will me
will leave you breathless with her beauty, but I can barely sleep for the fear that
I feel it in my chest. So many things will be harder when the cold comes.
 Chapter 13

ALL THE MEN

I saw men die in Tarrytown. I saw them fall around me, and the blood and the
the waste was indescribable, but somehow my mind was still trying to
quantify the horror, if only to consider what I could still
to endure.
General orders were issued for the army to prepare for
move at any time, and many of us think that the attack on
New York was imminent. The capture of New York, occupied by the best
troops of the British arsenal and fortified both by land and by water, it would be a
fatal and final blow of war for England, and in the huts there was an abundance of
discussions about when and how it would take place.
In mid-September, the entire brigade of General Paterson was sent.
on our way to New York. We crossed the Hudson via the King Bridge, and
we advance down the river, marching to the sound of drums and flutes, showing off
our number and our strength, and we encounter a division of
French people in the middle of the gala, with their white uniforms trimmed in green.
We advanced to the enemy position in Morrisania without challenging it, but it seemed
abandoned.
They have retreated to New York preparing for our attack, they told us.
Captain Webb, and when morning came, we were on the move again.
separating ourselves from the bulk of the army on a foraging expedition and camping
in forests near enemy lines, hoping to attract them, but
everything was calm. The next day we got back on track,
crossing unimpeded points that had previously been in British control.
We marched through Princeton, passing in front of the huge building of
stone that once had been full of students, not soldiers. The
numerous windows watched our progress with tired indifference, and the
the dome's weather vane remained motionless. The ground was littered with remnants of
battle and the blackened buildings, marked by the years of occupation of both
armies. I counted the windows and wished to explore them, even when we passed by.
and we continue towards Trenton.

When we arrived in Philadelphia, it was clear that we had been part of a

great plan. We advance through the streets in front of a three-kilometer parade of
officers in uniform, soldiers on the march, mounted cannons, carts of
ammunition and wagons filled with stores and provisions. The procession was raising
a dust cloud so large that I couldn't see the crowd coming to
to cheer us on, but I could hear her, and the French flags that were hanging from the
higher windows waved along the route said it all.
Thirty-six French ships had arrived at Chesapeake Bay.
Admiral de Grasse, a French admiral, had blocked Yorktown, which was
occupied by the British. In anticipation of their arrival, Washington had been
slowly moving his armies south while participating in
deceptive tactics designed to make the British believe that New York was
the true objective.
The deception had been successful.

Emboldened by De Grasse's fleet and seizing the opportunity to

surround the enemy, General Washington ordered a rapid march of all his
forces towards Virginia.
We crossed rivers -sometimes in boats and other times on bridges- and we saw villages.
blooming and closed cities. We turned our backs on one of them after finding out
that a disease had ravaged the population.
None of us got sick with smallpox, but many of us got sick on board.
of the boat that was transporting us along the Elk River, so great was the sway of the
vessel loaded with soldiers.
I had always enjoyed a strong constitution; Phineas said it was my
temperament.
"No ailment would dare," he said. But, although he had never suffered
no type of illness, I succumbed to the rocking of the boat, just like most of
my colleagues.
A strong wind surprised us, pushing us forward and did not relent until
that we arrived at the port near Jamestown, Virginia, where we disembarked and
we camped. We had traveled more than four hundred miles, mostly on foot
at a dizzying speed, but I would have preferred to walk away from all that again
before being shaken on that ship. I couldn't stand without the world
I would bend over and my legs would tremble, and I had nothing left in my stomach.
for an entire day. But the worst was yet to come.
The lines were drawn, each officer delivered passionate speeches to their
men and we advanced about two miles outside of Yorktown, where we were
they joined the three thousand French ground troops sent by De Grasse. It began
the excavation of trenches and the formation of groups, all under an incessant
British bombing.
My well of miseries continued to accumulate, my list of horrors, my assortment of
, but I am convinced, after having lived through them all, that hell
it couldn't be worse than a few weeks under constant shelling.
It was neither a skirmish nor a lightning attack by a handful of dragons. Nor
it was not even like the terrible night in Tarrytown. It was the culmination of six years.
of war.
It's hard to imagine that such horror could be beautiful, but it was. The light and
the sound clashed against the firmament like shooting stars and dragons in
pierced with fiery breath and tails of fire. It might have been the tremor of the earth.
and the sky, and the contrast of being more alive and closer to death than
I had never been there. I was living the Apocalypse and couldn't take my eyes away.

Great amounts of fire rained down and boiled in columns of smoke and dust.
that covered the air and frayed our nerves until I became insensitive and
deaf to the thunder and the crackling, and I worked in a senseless stupor. We slept.
con fascinas y herramientas de atrincheramiento en las manos y mosquetes
tied to our backs, taking naps leaning against our earthen walls.
Twice a day they brought us food, often cookies and dried pork, and
wheelbarrows loaded with water to refill our canteens.
I used the temporary latrines maybe once a day, and always during the hours
darker than the night, but no one bathed and no one slept and no one made me
case, except for the general, who rode back and forth along the line, encouraging
the men. I had seen him from afar, mounted on his horse, which I later learned was
he was called Lenox, and conferring with Kosciuszko, who oversaw the construction
from the trenches. It was not until the early hours of October 10, when
we had completed our first parallel and started our own cannonade,
when he approached and called me by my name. We were all indistinguishable from each other
from others, our faces and regiments covered in a paste of sweat and dirt, and
I didn't know how he recognized me.

I tried to greet, but I was unable to separate my fingers from the shovel. A torrent
blood and water crowded in my palm when I managed to release the handle. The
General Paterson dismounted from his horse and crouched next to the trench.
waving at me to come closer.
You've been here every day since we arrived. I guess your arm
he is cured.
Yes, sir. Healed a long time ago. Thanks to you. And I prefer to stay that way.
busy, General, sir.
Show me your hands, boy.
I am fine, sir.
He looked at me with a frown and I returned the gesture, but I didn't show him the ...
hands. It would mean a trip to the hospital store and, if I stopped working, no
I trusted I could start over. Action was my only antidote against the
fear
You have a fearsome look, Shurtliff.
I smiled. It was remembered.

He studied me for a moment, as if he wanted to tell me something more. —Good luck,

soldier.
Good luck, General.
He got up, got back on his horse, and continued on his way, and I stopped.
A moment to see him leave. I didn't see him again until they called me for another.
type of service.
It was determined that a couple of enemy strongholds needed to be taken.
three hundred meters in front of the main works so that our artillery
could move within its reach. Two advanced columns were assigned
light infantry, French on the right and American on the left, to assault the
defenses. My unit was among them.
 My hands were so blistered that I couldn't straighten my fingers or close them.
fist. I cut a strip from the bottom of the shirt, I bandaged my hands and
I spent the hours before the advance making peace with my creator, convinced that
that it was impossible for him to survive a mission like that. He had been lucky once.
I didn't expect to be so lucky again.
General Paterson addressed the men along with General Lafayette,
in charge of planning the coup.
I don't have a talent for pretty words, said Paterson, although
I would disagree. —But we are on the brink of a glorious end. Let's finish it.
let's go home.
The men around me were waving their muskets and raising their voices,
crying out for themselves and for others, and I wondered how many times the general
Paterson would have been in a similar situation, how many times would he have met
to his troops and looked into the eyes of boys who would not live to see another day... or
even another hour. And I wondered how many of the men around me had
avoided death and returned again, knowing very well that he carried the
account. And, as in Tarrytown, I felt very humble.
The night was so dark that we walked with our hands pressed against the shoulder of the
man that we had in front of us for almost a mile and a half, dragging us
to the designated place, where we work in silence, doing everything possible
for boring the earth without making noise.

We left before dawn and at the moment when the

The British saw our advance and started a constant fire, but we were
far away. The shells from the opposing lines crossed in the sky, fell and
they removed the earth. I didn't know what damage they had caused in the city, but there was
seen as a horse was flying in the middle, with its head and tail rising towards
the sky before his blood splattered the trenches over fifteen meters
in all directions, splattering the ground like sudden hail. A captain
from the Seventh Regiment of Massachusetts was also thrown into the air,
fortunately dead before coming back down.
At dusk, our columns were formed. A colonel named Alexander
Hamilton led the charge, and we attacked in waves, with the order to use only
nuestras bayonetas para evitar hacer ruido. Yo no podía luchar en mi estado más
to fly, and I limited myself to running forward when I was ordered, hoping to be
cut at every step.
 In contrast, the British fell back after the second wave, abandoning
their positions and fleeing under the assault. Our lines closed, connecting
the strongholds, and our cannons and mortars launched the attack. I had
suffered a hole in the hat and the lapel of my coat was hanging by a thread,
trapped by the tip of any bayonet, but still standing, my
bloodless bayonet, and the stronghold had been captured with very few losses of
lives.
My ears rang for days afterwards and my stomach rejected its contents.
due to my extreme fatigue, but somehow I had survived again.

19 de octubre de 1781
Dear Elizabeth,
I have seen two armies made up of thousands of men face each other in the field.
of battle. We use the words 'glorious' to describe the victory and 'terrible'
to describe the defeat, but those words are totally insufficient to
to capture what I witnessed. The world stirred, shaken by a tempest
implacable, and I have not yet made my way to the sea. I saw everything, I heard everything and I felt everything.
but I lack the ability to convey the experience.
After the capture of the two strongholds and two days of devastating bombings,
Lord Cornwallis sent a flag and requested the cessation of hostilities. Hours
he later surrendered, although he sent his substitute, General O'Hara, to the ceremony.
instead, citing illness. I found it cowardly. Seven thousand soldiers
British, as ragged as us, marched to the beat of the drums and
they surrendered their weapons, stacking them high with their heads down, before
that they would be led away with a slow and solemn pace. They could not send anyone in
their place. Neither the men from both sides who fell in the field
battle.
General Washington rode straight and fine on his pale horse, but it was the general
Benjamin Lincoln, second in command, who stepped forward and accepted the articles of the
surrender. The French officers were on one side, the Americans on the other. The
General Paterson was among them, elegant with his golden epaulets and his
belt, and you would have felt proud.
Many in my company cried while we watched the procession, but I did not.
I had the strength to cry. I am too exhausted and dazed, trapped in a
state of sleep from which I have not yet awakened. War is terrible, and if I survive
until the end, I will be a witness to the pure and incomprehensible waste of all this. But
It is not horror that has affected me. It is the wonder of still being here.

The Virginians, both slaves and free, arrived in wagons to see

the departure of the British army from Yorktown. The population of Virginia is formed
for five hundred thousand African slaves, three times the number of whites of the
colony. I cannot overlook that we fight for our own emancipation while
such a condition exists. It did not escape many. Colonel Kosciuszko, when
We were gathered in prayer before assaulting the strongholds, he said to the reverend.
que ofrecía la invocación:
Here we are, defending men's rights with our lives.
as long as we do not address the contradiction of our own practices. It weakens
our cause and our case.
The poor reverend was so distracted by the complaint that he placed himself
too close to the line and a stray shot knocked off his hat.

— Considérelo una advertencia, reverendo Evans — dijo riendo el coronel

Kosciuszko. —A warning for you about the sin of slavery and our
need to address it as soon as this war is won. Add that to your
sentences for the softening to begin.
The softening has begun. My own heart is very affected, and
Proverbs 18:16 keeps ringing in my mind.
The gift of a man makes room for him and brings him before the great.
I don't know what the future holds for me or where I will find the strength to
continue. But if we have won the war, as some believe, I will consider myself
blessed by the gifts - gifts that Deacon Thomas believed were wasted on
a woman - who have brought me before great men. -RS
 The sticky heat that settled over our shoulders and weighed down the march.
from Philadelphia had withdrawn before us, and the exodus from Yorktown came
accompanied by a drastic drop in temperatures, announcing the
winter. Instead of heat and humidity, we endure cold and humidity, and the hot
the race towards battle in September turned into a grim journey of forty
and five days back to the highlands.
I couldn't count the kilometers I had traveled, but my shoes, new
When I got ready, they looked like centenarians, and I didn't feel any younger. When we
we stopped for the night, I studied the miserable men who were beside me,
half-dressed, half-starved, with bleeding feet from walking
without adequate footwear or without any footwear. They spun their bodies in front of bonfires
miserable like rabbits on a spit, trying to warm themselves, and my amazement
increased.
I had never considered it a privilege to be a woman. Not even once. I had
I have struggled against the weight of my sex, against the reins of society, against the chair
to build from tradition. It hadn't occurred to me to think that men had
their own burdens, as they also had bridles. It was not the women who
they died on the battlefield.
I had been denied and banned from entering a world that I wanted to experience,
but had they banned me because they despised me or because they valued me?
I suspected it was for both reasons. Still, I felt less inclined to complain.
of my luck.
They had promised us that we would spend the winter at the Point, resting and
heat hung in front of us as we traveled the miles. But the
movement was my friend, it always had been, and the fear of spending months in the
barracks took over me.
The war had not ended.
If negotiations had started for a treaty, Congress did not
it had been announced and no one had been discharged. It would be in spring, they said
many. Or maybe autumn. Surely the British knew that the war
was lost. Surely it couldn't last much longer. But the general
Washington retreated to New Windsor, we returned again to the highlands at
mid-November, and I started to beg God for another blessing. It had arrived.
too far to be defeated by the winter barracks.
 Chapter 14

CERTAIN INALIENABLE RIGHTS

It was cold, and hunger and deprivation were relentless. I mended stockings and
I repaired coats much more often than I shot at the regulars. No
we received the supplies that General Paterson continuously requested from
Congress, so we conducted raids. Each mission was sanctioned and approved,
but it looked more like a robbery than anything else.

The groups of explorers were not made up of great men.

character, nor probably by the worst. They were men - and I include myself in that.
group - to those who had never been given anything, so taking was not so difficult.
Our only virtue was that we tried to snatch from those who had in
abundance, and we tried to be quiet enough so that no one would have
to lose my life for grain, whisky, and eggs. I volunteered to
the exploration expeditions simply because it took me out of the camp.
On our second expedition, an assault on a farm that belonged to a
loyalist, we could only manage a few pieces of rotten fruit, a
sack of corn flour and a teapot too heavy to carry back.
the property had been robbed or abandoned long before we arrived
there. We lit a small fire, I rummaged through the soaked fruit, I cut the
I salvaged pieces and put them in the pot with a little water and my serving of rum. I
I boiled it until it became a sticky sweet soup and then I added the flour of
corn, forming a yellow dough. The finished cake wasn't so bad, but
it only deserved the effort we had made to carry out the incursion.
Some of the men from the exploration group decided to move forward.
A man named Davis Dornan was the loudest, and after spending a few
hours around the fire eating my cake and complaining about the conditions, he
and three other men from our group of eight were determined to desert.
 I'm going home,
garnish all winter. None of us have seen a dollar since we
We listed. I heard they were promising land to the new recruits.

That news influenced some more, and the complaints became stronger.

What do you think, Shurtliff? Are you coming with us? —Dornan asked. —No.
You are a bad man to have close. You always surprise me —he picked up a crumb.
from the teapot and sucked his fingers.

—No —I shook my head. —I’m staying at the Point. I don’t have a home to go to.
return
You can come with me, Robbie. My mother would take you in,
soldier named Oliver Johnson. He was quite kind and sometimes kept a
sitting at the back of the dining hall. I thought it was probably because I was giving him what
I didn't eat, but I appreciated kindness no matter where it came from.

Thank you. But no. I signed up for the duration.

Davis Dornan didn't like that. He had also signed for the duration,
I was quite sure.

—Ellos no cumplen sus compromisos, ¿cómo pueden esperar que nosotros

Did we fulfill ours? —I couldn't argue it, but I wasn't going to desert and I limited myself.
to shake one's head when they continued insisting.
It's too cold to desert. I think I'm with Shurtliff. It's one hundred
fifty miles back to Uxbridge —concluded a man named Laurence
Barton, and some of the others grumbled in agreement, tipping the balance in
against the idea. In the morning, the dangerous conversation seemed forgotten, and
the whole exploration group set out on the way back to Nelson, in front of
Fort Clinton.
Are you going to tell Webb? Dornan asked me, while we
they transported it down the river to the West Point dock.
There's nothing to tell, I said softly. Nothing has happened.
That's right. Nothing has happened,
increased drastically. He mistrusted me and I mistrusted him. I did not
I would not volunteer for another exploration mission with him or with any of the others.
Others. Desertion was a crime. Planning desertion was also a crime.
 From time to time, British and Hessian deserters arrived at the Point,
promising loyalty and begging to be received, but they never were. They were abundant in
spies, and General Paterson rejected them, often assigning a detachment
to escort them back to the British lines to be delivered for treason.
It discouraged dropouts, and quickly the word spread that it would not be given.
the barracks and the deserters were not to present themselves.

Desertion and the low number of reinclusions had been a problem since
the beginning, but the situation only worsened. The continental currency
it continued to plummet, and no matter how much it was insisted or talked about the glorious
cause -no matter how worthy it was-, many could not be convinced that it.
they will remain once their time is fulfilled. Some argued that they had never
accepted the enlistment conditions, others simply felt with
right to violate them. I had heard rumors, especially after Yorktown, when
instead of ending the war, we settled in to spend a long winter. But
It had only been rumors. This had dangerously come closer to more.
When Captain Webb took me aside the next day, I thought that perhaps
someone else had spoken and I was in trouble.
You have never wanted to lead a team, Shurtliff, and you have rejected all the
opportunities to be at the forefront —he started, studying me attentively. —I would think
what you lack is courage, but it's clear that it's not that. You volunteer for the
worst jobs, you do them well and you don't complain. I think the only thing I've heard you say
to say is 'yes sir'.
I waited, almost without breathing.

Don't you have anything to say? - he asked me.

No, sir,
That is why I was surprised that General Paterson said he had spoken
long and detailed with you -several times- and that I had found you knowledgeable and
competent in many things. He said that you even taught at a school.
No estaba segura de sí me estaban elogiando o regañando, y volví a esperar,
expectant.
Lieutenant Cole, his aide-de-camp, is not feeling well. He has had
a debilitating cough for some time and another winter in the highlands would have
finished with him. He has been in Philadelphia since before Yorktown, and the general has
It is dispensing with him. But it needs a new man, and has requested to speak
with you.
A new man?

—Another assistant, Shurtliff. A glorified servant. You will serve his guests,
you will deliver messages and anything else that is needed. But it is a promotion, that
I didn't know if you would be interested, since you haven't accepted a promotion elsewhere.

Will I continue sleeping in the barracks?

No. You will stay in the Red House. You will be under the orders of the general and you will go.
wherever he goes. I hate to lose you, but you will eat better, sleep better, and I think that
You will make me proud.

I thought they chose assistants among the officers, I stammered, barely able to
create my good luck.
They usually are. I'm not saying you have the position. I’m just saying that he wants
talk to you. You have impressed him. Consider it an interview.
"Now?" I yelled, and Captain Webb grimaced.
"Sir, you are young," he grumbled. "Yes. Now, Shurtliff."

Do I look respectable, captain? I asked, running my hands

about my uniform.
You look as exhausted and tired as the rest of us, but there is nothing
what to do about it now. Wash your face and hands, and clean the mud off your
boots. The general seems to know what he's up to, so don't worry too much.
for that reason.

I put on the most presentable clothes I could in three minutes and ran to the House.
Roja, fearing that if I took too long I would lose my chance.

Agrippa Hull opened the door and glanced at my feet to check if

I had mud before scrutinizing me from head to toe and vice versa, with an expression
of doubt on the face.
General Paterson asked to see me, I insisted.
 --For what?-- he said, crossing his arms over his immaculate white vest.
I didn’t really know how he kept it so clean, but he lived in the house and was
of course he was considered a kind of doorman.
My captain told me that he is looking for an assistant, I said, trying
to hold his gaze, but could see beyond the wide hallway, to the wide
staircase and the shining floors. It was another world -another universe- different from the rest
from the garrison, and my legs trembled with intimidation. The best building that
I had stepped into the church of Reverend Conant, and it was a simple structure with
wooden benches, white walls and a bit of colored glass.
There was a dining room on the left and a living room on the right, and both were
furnished with heavy carpets and curtains, walls with blue panels and
bookshelves that contained more books than I could read in two decades if
I will fully dedicate myself to the task. Heavy candlesticks and golden wall sconces are
they aligned on the walls and adorned the tables. A huge chandelier
it hung over the stairs, and a smaller version was centered on the long one
dining table.

—What is your name? —asked Hull.

For a moment I was so overwhelmed by the greatness that I couldn’t remember.
Um... the general summoned me.
— Yes. That's what you said. What is your name, soldier? — his insistence on 'soldier'
shook my confused brain, I found myself in her lively and dark gaze, and I managed to
to respond.

—Robert Shurtliff, sir. Company of Captain Webb, Fourth Regiment.

—Bonny Robbie —he said, recognizing me. —I have heard about you.
I turned pale. —Have you done it?

— Yo sí. No hay mucho por aquí que no conozca — ladeó la cabeza,

considering myself. I didn't twist or lower my gaze, but my heart was beating with
strength.
You're not that great - he seemed surprised.

No, sir.
He smiled. —Why do they call you Bonny?
 I suspect it is a joke, sir.
He smiled again. -Very well, then. Follow me, boy. But not
too close. I don't want you to step on my heels. I just polished them.
shoes. If the general is busy, you will have to come back.
If the general is busy, I can wait, I said firmly. I wasn't going to leave.
without the position.

Have you ever served in a formal meeting? -he asked me,

putting me to the test. — Because that will be part of the job. The General
Washington could show up at any moment. I don't want you to spill sauce.
in her lap.
I had served a table full of Thomas and managed a room full of
children on countless occasions. Serving dignitaries could not be more difficult,
but I didn't lie to him. Lying would turn against me if I needed instructions. And the
would need.
I have cooked for many and served many, but not in a setting
I am formal. But I learn quickly. You will only have to teach me once.

--Hmm. I don't know anything about that --she turned left into a long hallway hidden by
the stairs. Paintings of cherubic faces and heads with wigs watched over
our advance from the walls, and I wondered if the Moore family was waiting.
to return at some point. They were a homey group, but I didn't like them very much.
the portraits. They all looked the same: plump and weak-chinned, with
small heart-shaped mouths and tearful eyes.
Agrippa Hull knocked on the double doors that were at the end of the hallway and the
General Paterson indicated that he should enter.

I have soldier Bonny here, General. He says you called him for the
helper position. He is too young and skinny for the job, if you ask me.
—she was provoking me, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. —But perhaps that's it.
Good. It won't eat much or take up too much space.
I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders, trying to look a little more
formidable.
Make him pass, Agrippa,
 Agrippa Hull stepped aside and pushed the door to let me pass. When
I did it, he/she closed the door behind me.

General Paterson was sitting at a desk, with his head bowed.

for something that seemed to worry him. He had a furrowed brow and clenched fists,
a pen twisted in the left fist. The general was left-handed. I had noticed it.
when she sewed my arm. That could explain the aggressive inclination in the
formation of its letters.
Sir?
He lifted his head, with dejection etched on his features. He still did not
he had shaved, and his beard was redder than golden in the morning light that
it entered through the windows on its left.
Come in, Shurtliff. And don't pay attention to Grippy.

I took a few steps with my hands at my sides. I didn't stand up with the
hands intertwined behind the back unless he was in formation. I thought that
it was better not to emphasize the push of my chest, despite my flattened chest.

Did Captain Webb tell you the reason why he is here?

Yes, sir. It is an honor.
He grunted and looked at the correspondence in front of him again. Then he got up.
and he pushed the chair back.

You can read and write —it was a statement, not a question, but I nodded.
I can, General. And very well - I didn't want to brag, but I couldn't refuse to
myself the truth for which I had worked so hard.
Sit here. I will dictate a letter, you will write it and I will see if your skills are.
sufficient.
They are, sir.
He raised his eyebrows, but pointed to his chair.

I made myself comfortable in my seat, with apprehension bubbling in my chest.

Would you recognize my handwriting?
 She had already started the letter, but she set it aside and provided me with one.
blank page. I dipped the pen and looked at him expectantly. He turned around,
walking around, and began to express his thoughts in fragmented sentences.
Dear sirs,
I consider it my duty to inform you of the unpleasant and distressing condition of the
brigade under my command. If the enemy were to discover our vulnerabilities, it would
it would be cheap to exploit them.

We have no more than six days of meat provisions in the garrison.

last August we spent the entire month without supplies, our soldiers reduced to
flour rations and the little we could buy or forage from the farms
locales, which, considering the worthless role we have for trading, is not
a lot. All the departments are at a standstill due to a lack of cash. Our
Warehouses are out of stock, the army unpaid and discouraged.
If this continues, I fear the consequences. Many officials, worried about the
treatment received and due to the repeated breaches of promises by Congress, we
they have committed to leaving the service at the end of this campaign, and I fear
that the soldiers will follow their example. Most are in great distress and depend
only from the rations, both of food and clothing, that they have not received.
My only wish is to see the army well supplied; it would greatly avoid
the resignations, the riots and the looting. I am ashamed of being constantly
filling their ears with complaints; the crisis is difficult and dangerous, and if we survive the
Presently, we are under constant threat of a relapse.
I will continue to do everything in my power to obtain supplies,
although some of these means put our men in serious danger
brave. The local renegades have become increasingly violent with our
soldiers and the citizenship. They may see their own end or believe that they can hasten the
ours, but the situation is desperate.
I await your response and guidance.
General Paterson returned to my side and waited for me to finish the last line.
You have a good hand,
Thank you, sir - I could barely dare to breathe as I examined my
he worked, but he simply leaned over, picked up the pen, and stamped his signature at the bottom,
a signature that I knew well. Then it straightened up again.
 —This is how I spend my time —he gestured towards the card. —Noticing
and worrying and writing letters that are rarely attended to —shook the
head and passed the palms of his hands over his cheeks.
I need a shave.
I can do it, sir - I vacated your seat. - Where is your kit?
I can do it myself, Shurtliff.
Yes sir, I am sure you can. But it is the job of an assistant,
No?
I suppose so.
This is an assessment of my skills, isn't it, sir?
He shrugged, brought me his gear and a cloth to cover his clothes, and
sat down again in his chair. I splashed a little water in the basin.
the deep one that was near and I brought it closer to his desk, not without first moving with
watch out for the letter that I had just dictated to me.

I wrapped it with the cloth, created foam on its brush and proceeded to remove it.
growth of two days that I had on the chin and cheeks.
It may only be temporary, and I will have to speak with Colonel Jackson.
She might not want to lose a good man from her ranks - she murmured as
I used to work.
I would really like the position, sir. It is a better use of my talents.
She pursed her lips and I struggled to keep my gaze steady, even though my cheeks.
they caught fire again. I had shaved dozens of faces, but suddenly I felt
painfully aware of myself and him. I hadn't bathed in ages
conditions and that morning menstruation had started. The bleeding did not
it was abundant, and I had folded a cloth and made a sling for
to keep it in place under the panties, but I could feel the moisture and smelled the
unmistakable musk of my body, and I feared that he would too. I did everything
I did my best to stay organized and clean, but it was almost impossible.
The general, on the other hand, smelled of linseed oil and tea with honey, and his vest
rivaled that of Agrippa Hull. I hoped that the foam under my nose
I masked my scent and forced myself to remain calm. It was a miracle that there was
such an opportunity has arisen. I would not beg or pressure to get the position,
but I wouldn't let the fear of their proximity make me avoid them.
Being the general's aide would mean having my own bed and a degree of intimacy.
that I hadn't enjoyed since I started my enlistment. I could wash myself and
to do my needs without conspiracies or plans. I could sleep without being
surrounded by men everywhere.
I needed the position.
You are very good at that, Shurtliff,
incipient from the middle of the face.

—Yes. I know —I said softly. I wasn't focusing on my words, but on the

foam from the line of her left cheekbone and in the touch of the blade in my hand.

She shook with laughter, and I gasped, my eyes fixed on hers, alarmed.
Don't move, sir!
I'm sorry,
someone so young.
I clenched my teeth and wished that the embarrassment I felt in my chest
I disappeared while I was thinking about my words. I didn't mean to brag. I was
distracted and had simply told the truth.
I only succeed because I put a lot of effort into everything I do. Not
because it is especially gifted.
Hmm.
"Please, señor, wrinkle your lip" I asked him, focused on my task.
He obeyed, and I pressed his chin with my thumb to keep it steady. He didn't return to
speak until I finished. She remained with her eyes closed, her thick eyelashes
against the cheeks and the even breathing. His stillness made me more nervous
that their way of speaking, the necessary familiarity of the act created an intimacy
that I shouldn't feel.
I took a step back when I did my last sweep and took a deep breath,
calming me down while he opened his eyes. It seemed as if he had been about to
to put him to sleep. The man was tired, and my heart twisted from a
compassion almost as great as my hope. It would be an excellent helper of
I would take very good care of it if I were given the opportunity.
 Did you finish? - she asked.

Yes, sir. The men in my company will attest to my skill.

He ran his hands over his face and got up to look at himself in the small mirror.
oval installed on the wall of his office.
It's not bad. You have a delicate yet firm hand.
Thank you, sir.
She looked in the mirror as if reflecting on her decision. Then she squared the
shoulders and took off the scarf from his neck, throwing it towards me.

—Come then, Shurtliff.

I took the cloth, shook it, and folded it neatly. —Where are we going, sir?
She left the room and I followed her obediently. The door in front of her
the office was identical to all the others in the hallway, but he opened it and indicated to me that
will enter.
The room was very similar to the living room in color and shape, although
A large bed with carved posts and a red quilt dominated the room.
intense. Two large leather armchairs supported a stone fireplace, and a
a dresser, a desk and a table with a washbasin and a jug for washing oneself
they completed the furniture. The only personal item was a painting of
a dark-skinned woman hanging over the bed.
These are my quarters, said the general. When General Washington
it's here, these are your quarters. You and I will go up the stairs to the wing of the
servants when he is at the Point.
-You and I, sir?
If you want the position, Shurtliff. There’s a locker on the other side of that door.
he directed himself towards a slightly ajar panel. A discreet latch
he was hiding among the branches and vines of the carpentry.

My last assistant slept here. The room has been aired out and the clothes
bare bed. There is a small window, a sink, shelves, and hooks,
Of course. It will be enough, I trust.
 He opened the panel and glanced around, almost unable to believe my
good luck. The camera assistant's closet was bigger than the room
that had been occupied in the Thomas's house. An upholstered seat in blue velvet
it extended under a high window, and a narrow bunk bed was embedded in the
wall under the shelves, also a small table, and judging by the cabinets
that went from the floor to the ceiling, taking care of Mr. Moore's wardrobe had
it has been a full-time job. General Paterson's blue coat, two
vests, three shirts, and an extra pair of underwear seemed really scarce.
You can read and write and recite the declaration. You know barbering. You can
to set up...
I do most things very well, I interrupted. And what I don't know, I
I will learn. Immediately.
He raised his eyebrows and tightened his mouth. I didn't blink. I wanted the job and I knew that
I would not have another opportunity like this.

Yes. As you have shown —he cleared his throat— Mr. Allen, the officer of
personal, will answer any questions you have about the house. It is
grumpy, but efficient. I will inform Captain Webb that you will be relieved of
its queues until further notice.

Will you do it? I breathed.

Yes. I will do it. I don't think it demands a lot... but the less I have to think
en pequeños asuntos, mejor. Mis uniformes. Mis botas. El orden en mis aposentos
y los recados. Las tareas varían y probablemente te parecerán interminables... e
ungratefuls.
I know what a helper does, sir. And I feel honored to do it.
— Good — he cut in. — Above all, I will need to be able to trust you. No more
to revel. No gossip. Do not repeat what you see here or while you are at
my side. Can I trust you, Shurtliff?
My heart trembled and my stomach turned, but I nodded firmly,
as sharp as he. —Yes, sir, he can —and he could. Nobody worked harder than
she kept a secret better than I did. Being a woman wouldn’t stop me from doing any of
the things he demanded.
So pick up your things from the barracks, and I will tell Mr. Allen that you are now
Some of the staff will be waiting for your return.
 Thank you, General - my voice was firm, my gaze composed, and he nodded.
time, saying goodbye.
Come back when you have settled in,
He followed me from his chambers and returned to his office, and I walked through the
hallway, through the spacious lobby, and I left the Red House with calm steps and
measured, although I felt like jumping. Running. Sprinting through the forest, jumping.
bushes and dodging the trees like I used to do when I was little.

I reached halfway before giving up and letting myself go, joyfully,

strong and imbued with a new hope.
 Chapter 15

THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS

I did not allow myself to revel in my deceit nor succumb to guilt for the improvement.
of my circumstances. The master sergeant, Mr. Allen, provided me with a
new uniform, warning me that the soldiers of the house could not smell
like the soldiers from the barracks. He also gave me a nightgown with
instructions that I should not 'sleep in my filth'. The nightgown was too
big and I felt like a child when I put it on, but I kept my bunk bed
clean and my uniform without wrinkles.

Agrippa, who gave me permission to call him Grippy instead of sir, occupied
a room on the second floor next to Colonel Kosciuszko, as well as several
other officers with regiments stationed in the garrison. On the third floor there
Mr. and Mrs. Allen were hosting their eldest daughter, Sophronia, and her husband, Joe, who
they seemed to have arrived with the property. Mr. Allen took care of the house and of the
personal, although Agrippa told me to consult everything with him. Joe was taking care of
of the animals and the stables, and Mrs. Allen and Sophronia were in charge of the
cooking and general cleaning. I avoided it as much as I could, fearing that I
they discovered.
On my second day, Agrippa became my personal instructor and I
he accompanied me around the house and the surroundings, giving me an amazing verbal list of
orders and instructions, which I followed precisely. I am sure he laughed
a lot at my expense when I ironed the general's underwear, I sat down on the
I lay next to her bed while she was sleeping and checked if her food was there.
poisoned before presenting it to her. The general kindly informed me that
those things were not necessary, warning me that Grippy had an affinity for the
mischiefs.
This hobby became apparent days later, when General Paterson and
Colonel Kosciuszko and the garrison abandoned to attend a meeting at the
Newburgh camp with a small contingent in which we were not.
neither Agrippa Hull nor I. They were only going to be out for one night, but Grippy organized a
surprise costume party in one of the barracks - I wasn't invited - and
he attended the great event just like Colonel Kosciuszko himself, dressed in the
colonel's dress uniform, complete with ornamental sword, standard and
hat with ribbons. The only thing missing were the colonel's black boots, already
that Kosciuszko was wearing them.
Agrippa made me swear that I would keep the secret and promised me that 'once
"that I would have tried myself" could accompany him. He called it an evening and
he even dedicated a song to her, which he sang softly as he left the house and
he was entering the darkness of early winter that was descending upon Point
before five and left the gloomy and long afternoons. I didn’t care about it in
absolute, living in the Red House with a library at my disposal.
I had only enjoyed a chapter of a book about the Apocalypse when the
the general and Colonel Kosciuszko returned suddenly, with their plans thwarted
for a lame horse. Still too far from Newburgh, they had decided
return to the Point and set off again in the morning with a new mount for the
colonel.
When Kosciuszko asked about the whereabouts of his aide, I became the
silly, but I volunteered to find him as soon as possible. I ran through
the trees up to the barracks, not being sure where Grippy had gone, but
following the sound of laughter until I located, without much difficulty, the gathering
secret. There was a soldier posted at the door, but I only had to mention the
the name of Colonel Kosciuszko with all the urgency I felt for you to me
they will let in.
Agrippa was standing on top of a stripped litter that was used as
he entertained the crowd with a very convincing imitation, although
theatrically beautified, by her fiery Polish master. I made my way through the
crowd and I grabbed her leg when she passed by doing somersaults. She was covered in
thick black paint from the knee to the feet to create the appearance of a boot
black, and my hand left a mark on her shin.
The colonel has returned, I shouted at him.

She looked at me with a furrowed brow and crossed her arms over her chest. — I'm
acting, Mr. Shurtliff —he said, still in his role.
Yes... I know. But the colonel has returned and is asking for you.
 He paled, but did not jump immediately. The audience was asking him for a little more, and he...
he was reluctant to disappoint his fans. His painted legs and feet gave the costume a
comic hat, and his face shone with laughter and sweat. He took off his tricorn hat and made a
great reverence.
I had transmitted the message, fulfilled my duty and was anxious to
retire myself. Those meetings were not safe for me, even though I had
possibly the best costume of all. I left the barracks and bent down to
washing my fingers covered in paint in the snow, only to realize that
Grippy was right behind me. He hadn't even stopped to look for his shoes.
I was studying my uniform and I knew what I was thinking before
the words came out of her mouth. I stepped back several paces, shaking off the
moisture of the hands.
-No - I said.

Give me your coat, Bonny.

"No!" I repeated, unyielding. "You won't get me into your mess, Mr. Hull. I have
helped. Don't pay me like this - I started to jog towards the Red House,
putting immediate distance between us.
-Wait! -I started running too, but I shot out, using all my
considerable speed to fly back the way he had come, with Grippy
stepping on my heels. We ran about a hundred meters before Grippy cursed and
He begged me to stop. I simply accelerated.
Damn it, Bonny. You're fast - he gasped, but I sensed it was more of a surprise.
that the effort was what made him pant. The ground covered in snow beneath his feet
barefoot he couldn't have helped either, but he was also fast.
Give me your coat. Just your coat, he demanded again, and lunged at me.
arm. I heard something tearing.
"I'll bring you your clothes," I shouted, skidding to a stop, but warning him.
de vuelta, con las palmas de las manos extendidas. —Quédate aquí. Ahora vuelvo.
I promise you. I will bring it to you.

He also stopped and looked at the lights shining in the back of the
Red House and back to me. The night was white from the moonlight and I didn't
It was costly to see his indecision. He was in a bind.
 My uniform won't fit you, I argued. You weigh more than I do, two kilos or
more. And even if that were the case, I couldn't go back to the house without him —I said.

I don't know whether to trust you, Bonny.

She had reasons to doubt me, considering the jokes she had made about me.
spent, one after another, throughout the week, but I wasn't that interested in the
revenge like conservation.
I will return, I promised. I give you my word. Give me the colonel's uniform...

—And wait in my underwear? It's freezing out here!

He will give me a reason to be in his chambers. If the colonel stops me, I
I will say that you asked me to arrange it while you were ironing the general's.

Agrippa grumbled, but he began to take off Kosciuszko's uniform,

jumping from one bare foot to the other. —I'm going to catch my death.

I will hurry up, I promised, relieved that he was cooperating.

He grumbled again. —Don't make me follow you, boy. Life here

It can be easy or it can be difficult. If you leave me here, I will make it difficult.

Yes sir - I did not remind him that he had already made it much harder for me.
what should.
He was only wearing a couple of woolen underwear, and his painted legs didn't
protected me from the freezing temperatures, and handed me the colonel's uniform, with
the teeth chattering.
I ran with my clothes clutched to my chest, slipped through the entrance of the kitchen, passed
I ran ahead of Mrs. Allen and dashed up the stairs, not stopping to think.
I was planning, with my ears open just in case I saw the colonel. Ah, there he was. He was in the living room.
with some voices that I could not distinguish.

The clothes that Grippy had discarded in his eagerness to disguise himself were in the
colonel's wardrobe, waiting for his return, and I hung up the gala uniform
where it corresponded. The sleeve had a bit of black paint on the cuff and the
the vest also had some spots. Agrippa would have to take care of those.
asuntos cuando no estuviera medio desnudo en el bosque helado.
 I had rushed back through the kitchen, not looking to the right or to the left.
left, and I was almost in the clearing when General Paterson came out of the stable,
directly in my way.
He reached out his hand to grab me, but my arms were full, my impulse
I was big, and I crashed against his broad chest. I bounced back instantly and managed to.
holding onto the clothes, but I was trapped.
What does this mean, Shurtliff? asked the general, more surprised than
outraged.
--Grippy has had a little... mishap... and I'm bringing you his clothes --I said,
convinced that the truth would be best for everyone, especially with the uniform
to safety where the colonel belonged.
Is this the same Agrippa Hull who sends you on a pointless quest at least?
once a day?
Yes, sir. The same. But at this moment, he is in desperate need of your
clothes, so I am opting for forgiveness.
The puff of his breath in the growing darkness reminded me that I shouldn't.
to delay myself, even though the general decided to follow me, as it was.

I circled around it and hurried to cross through the trees, closely followed by the
general, and when Agrippa left, embarrassed before us, I simply handed him
their clothes without making any comment.
--Do you want to explain yourself, Agrippa? --asked the general, with more laughter than
censorship in its tone.

Don't worry, sir. Don't worry,

another while putting on his underwear and putting on his shoes, without the socks that I
I had included them in the pile. It didn't make sense to stain them with paint as well.

--Are they yours? --the general pointed to the black footprints in the snow that
they were entering the trees.

—Yes —Grippy confessed.

It was harmless fun, sir, I intervened. Nothing more.

—Hmm —grunted the general. —Agrippa?

 —Yes?
You owe the boy.
Yes sir.
No more ridiculous lessons or instructions. No more poison tests.
No, sir.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Alone. I trust in
that both return to their duties.
Yes, sir, I said, turning towards the house.
Good evening, General,
completely ignoring me.

The general demanded the complete story when he returned.

I agreed, but only after getting the promise that he would not punish me.
Agrippa would in no way indicate that I had disclosed the details. John
Paterson laughed until he cried when I described to him the clever black boots of
Agrippa and his cheerful imitation of the Polish engineer. His laughter only did nothing more than
I increased when I detailed our pursuit through the forest and remembered Agrippa.
dressed only in his underwear and his makeup, waiting for my return with his clothes.
You shouldn't have gone for his uniform. You had already saved him. He would have
It has been well to bear a shame —the general laughed. —Someday I will have to
Tell it to Kosciuszko. No one enjoys a good story more than he does.
Surprisingly, Grippy didn't mention the episode again, and he didn't seem
hold a grudge against me for involving the general, but after that, I
I made sure to take everything he said with due skepticism, suspecting
a joke at every step.
 In the months of my enlistment, I had become accustomed to the men.
dresses in different sizes, but if General Paterson ever discovered my
secret, he suspected that it would be the familiarities that would make him feel more
betrayed. So I did my utmost to serve him, and serve him well,
maintaining a respectful distance.
I had not lived in the world of maidens and chamber aides, but,
Fortunately, General Paterson did not protest my absence while he was
he didn't dress me nor did he demand that I wash his back, as Agrippa had insisted that
I would. Every morning I would shave his face and take care of his clothes and his
rooms, but he was clearly used to taking care of himself, and
I was more of a messenger and an employee than a servant.

Twice a week, I would fill buckets with water and take them to the kitchen, where
they warmed themselves by the large stone fireplace. Then he took them down the hallway to the
general's quarters and to the bathroom through another small door
next to his room. The bathtub took an hour to fill, but when the
general finished, I was able to use the water, lock the door and
scrub me thoroughly -without clothes- and without fear of being seen.

In the barracks, I had kept myself as clean as I could, but

my clothes were stained, my skin and my hair were never really clean. The
the smells of piled bodies, firewood smoke and humidity had always been
Gifts. Being clean, naked, and alone was paradise.
A few weeks after moving to the Red House, I knew the schedules of the
general, their state of mind, their preferences, and their problems. I anticipated that
all his needs and rushed to fulfill all his orders. I also learned that the
The portrait on her bed was Elizabeth. I had guessed it. Her painted gaze me
it served as a constant reminder of my secret, and it committed me even more, but
such dedication was not a difficulty.
The winter would have been unbearable in the barracks, the confinement, the pond.
ice cream, the long months of cold with hardly anything to do. Instead, I had
access to a toilet where I could lock the door, a biweekly bath, a bed
own and the general to take care of.
I loved working at the Red House and adored John Paterson.
 He was the best man, in every way, that I had ever known. I feared
that my devotion became obvious to him and to everyone else, and I did everything I
possible by keeping the eyes diverted, the mouth closed, and the attention heightened.
But he adored her.
When he ran out of things to do or was saying goodbye, he
I used to take care of tasks or errands for Mr. Allen and, whenever I could, I would be nosy.
in the library among the books. Having access to such abundance was more than what
I could resist, even if it cost me sleep, and most nights I read until
I couldn't keep my eyes open.
El general dormía incluso menos que yo. Salía a pasear tarde, y yo intentaba
to keep me awake until he returned in case I needed help. The first time
when I heard him leave, I tried to follow him like a faithful guard dog, and he sent me with
firmness of return home.
You are tireless. And I am grateful. Even Agrippa has praised you, and he does not
he is easily impressed. But after dinner, your time is yours. If you
I need to know where to find you.
That night she was still awake when the general entered. He washed himself and he...
he moved. I heard him take off his boots - I knew I shouldn't run to help him - and, a few
minutes later, turn off the light. He arrived earlier than usual, and I returned
to my reading, unwilling to close the book or to get into bed.

—Shurtliff?
Yes, sir?
That candle has to last you the whole week, he grumbled.
Yes, sir.

He sighed. —Alright, Shurtliff. I'm just in a bad mood. Are you reading?
Yes, sir.
What book?
I'm reading a comment on the Apocalypse, sir.
He sighed and I let out a giggle.
 That sounds terrible. But I will tell Mr. Allen to assign you another candle if you read it.
loud enough for me to hear you.
Won't you have nightmares, General?

Are you being cheeky, Shurtliff?

Yes, sir.

I laugh. —Just read. Start wherever you want. I don't care. Tonight already
I can't stand my own thoughts.
I got up from the chair, took out the extra blanket from the bed to wrap myself.
voluminous nightgown -the panties on the bed turned into dirty sheets- and
I opened the door that separated our rooms so I wouldn't have to talk.
through her.
I was in her big bed and the room was dark, but I lifted a little
the candle to see his face. He had his arms crossed under his head and the fire that
the fire in the grill was nothing more than a handful of embers. There was no
not added a log to keep the room comfortable during the night.
It was frugal, and every little piece of fuel, every candle, every drop of food was
he stretched it in an attempt to make it last. His constant concern was that the
men under his command will be left with nothing.

"Are you cold?" she asked me, tilting her chin towards the blanket that was covering me.
It surrounded the shoulders and the stockings he was wearing on his feet.

No, sir, I lied. I am very comfortable with the extra blanket. And I will read until
that it tells me to stop... or until the candle goes out.

Very good.
I returned to my chair, tucked my feet underneath so they wouldn't freeze, and started
where I had left it. The comment seemed fascinating to me and I read for at least
half an hour non-stop.
Mi vela parpadeó, gastada, y el capítulo terminó. Dejé el libro a un lado y
I marked my spot with a wild turkey feather that I had picked up that day.
tomorrow when hanging out the laundry.

The general's breathing was steady and deep, I closed the door behind us.
I separated and crawled to my bunk, filled with more peace than I had ever had.
known.
 General Paterson requisitioned the chestnut horse from the skirmish at Tarrytown.
for my use. They kept him with Lenox and the other officers’ horses in the
stables of the garrison, and I rode it all over Point and in various errands with and
In the name of the general. The horse had a wonderful and unwavering character, and
I called him Common Sense, which suited him wonderfully and made the general smile.

In early March, we experienced a week of heat out of

season that thawed the ice of the Hudson and melted the snow, and the general did
planes, together with Colonel Kosciuszko, to review the fortifications along
from the river while the weather was good. Grippy and I prepared the saddlebags and
we saddled the horses for a few days of travel, and the four of us, along with a little
mounted detachment returning to Verplanck, we set out to make the
inspections.
Even the horses were impatient to depart, and the weather cooperated, for
the trip to Stony Point was extremely pleasant. Agrippa and I established
conversation, following the general and the colonel as they talked about reinforcing
this and build that, and what would happen to West Point when it was finished
war.
Kosciuszko wants me to go with him to Poland when he returns,
Abruptly, as if the matter had been weighing on him. -He doesn't have much left.
what to do here, and has problems in their own country.

I was left speechless, excited for him. —Poland? Do you want me to go to

Poland? What a wonder. I am desperate to see the world.
Grippy pressed his lips together and frowned, as if he didn't think much of it.
wonderful.
Don't you want to see the world? I asked him. To explore?

I want to explore my world. America. That's what this war is about, right? This
land from here —he pointed with his finger at the ground we were crossing. —I don't want to go to
Poland. I want to go home. General Paterson and I. He is a lawyer, you know. Me
has been teaching. He even gave me some of his Yale books. I can read. Maybe
I also become a lawyer. That way I know my rights. That way I know the laws.
 I was wondering if the general would also teach me or if Grippy would let me.
see his books. He continued.

The British spread the word to all Africans. They said that if they fought
against us, we would grant them freedom when the war ended. But they promise
things that will not be fulfilled or cannot be fulfilled. And if they don't win? Then what?
Will you fight against your neighbors? Maybe you will kill some of them? I will not go to
England or Poland when this is over. I will stay here. Here is better than
anything they can promise. They cannot give me what God has already given me.
granted.

Certain inalienable rights —I interjected, nodding.

That's right. I am a free man. I was born free in Massachusetts. I will die free in
Massachusetts. When all this is over, I will return to Stockbridge.

That is near Lenox, right? Where is the general from?

That's right. I have an acre of land. I'm going to get more too. Build a
home. To find a woman that I enjoy looking at, one who enjoys looking at me.
To have children.

"Me too," I said, without thinking. I was still stuck in the part about being born.
free and die free, but Grippy laughed, a great rolling sound that shook his
chest and its shoulders.

Did you hear that, General? Bonny wants a woman and babies —Grippy always
My name was Bonny.
General Paterson and Colonel Kosciuszko had stopped talking and us
They were looking. I hunched my shoulders and tilted my head, wishing that Grippy would shut up.

So you have a girl at home in ... where did you say you were from? —Grippy
he/she asked, still smiling.

I ignored half of his question. —No, I don't have a girlfriend. No girl.

I think you're lying to me, Bonny. You have rosy cheeks and
you blink as if you have someone on your mind.
To be free and to die free. As you said. That's what I want. That's why I am
here.
 — Huh. Okay. Well... for a white boy like you. ...it shouldn't be a
problem if you don't die of hunger or sheer boredom. Most of the
the fight is over, I think.
I was not born free.

He furrowed his brow. —No?

No.
What does that mean?

No podía decirle que había nacido niña. Le dije otra verdad. —Me ataron
when I was a child —I said. Colonel Kosciuszko was pointing at something in the stronghold and the
General Paterson nodded his head.
You're still a child,
I shook my head, but he was not convinced.
Are you a fugitive?
That is exactly what it was, although not in the way he meant to say.
--We're all running away from something, aren't we? --I said to him. --But no... I'm not.
I belong to no one. I owe nothing to anyone. And no one is looking for me —the last part
it might not be true, but I hoped it was.

Almost at the end of the day, when we were approaching the Peekskill Hollow post, a
a man on horseback came to meet us, and even from twenty yards away I identified the
Colonel Sproat. He greeted the general with a crisp salute and recognized the colonel.
Kosciuszko. His eyes stopped on me for a moment and I held back the
breathing, but he just greeted me by my name and praised me for my quickness
performance and my sensibility in Tarrytown.

The soldier Shurtliff is my new aide-de-camp, Colonel Sproat,

Paterson.
 You seem familiar to me, Shurtliff. There are Shurtliffs in Taunton. Perhaps you know...
your family?
I don't know, sir. I don't even know my family. But I am not from Taunton.
it was mostly the truth, and it rolled off my tongue.
He nodded easily and I forgot about him. He rode alongside the general and, in a low voice,
shared certain information that straightened the general's back and sharpened his
glance.
We received information about a finding of supplies nearby.
Eastchester in a kind of underground cave. The man who reported claims
that the supplies that never arrived last August are there.

—A subterranean cave? It seems like a trick.

Colonel Sproat shrugged. - I thought the same. But I trust.
in the source. He said that not many know that it is there, and that it is not well monitored.

Are you saying that you have been inside?

Yes, sir. A pair of young brothers were guarding the entrance. They did not
they realized that he was not part of the same gang that hired them.
He said to take him inside, and they did.
Who pays them?

I don’t know. But no one on our side. I suppose the detachment that
he disappeared, was bribed to desert, or is dead. I think dead.
DeLancey does not pay when he can simply take.
No, it doesn't.
--He said it's full. Wine. Hams hanging from a beam. Barrels of flour.
["Beans","Rice","Potatoes","Molasses","Lard","Jars of fruit"]
How many carts?
Sproat let out a sigh and shook his head. -He seems to believe that only the
barrels would fill a barge.
What do you suggest we do?
We will take it, sir.
 Any movement of troops or vehicles towards Eastchester, and they will know.
there are secrets in the neutral zone.

— True. But if we send a brigade, they won't be able to do much to

stop us.
Unless they find out and move it before we arrive.

Sproat scratched his head. —We need those supplies, General. No one does it.
knows better than you. My men have been on half rations the whole
winter. We have been hiding. Without exploring. Neither marching, nor fighting. Like this
that we don't need that much, but that can't continue.

—I know.
DeLancey has not responded to the attack in Tarrytown. I would really like
empty those stores.

Round trip, to where? —asked General Paterson.

Thirty miles. Maybe a little less. Ten more or less from White.
Plains.
We will leave tomorrow at dawn. I will go with you.

"You, General?" Sproat sounded stunned.

I can't come up with a plan to seize the supplies if I don't know.
the details. I need to see where they are stored, how many men and cars.
necesitaremos para trasladarlas, y si vale la pena el riesgo para los hombres que
They could find themselves in the middle of a shooting if my plan is not good.

Sproat nodded slowly, with a smile on his cheeks. - I will be ready.

 Chapter 16

TO GUARANTEE THESE RIGHTS

We were riding towards White Plains when the sky stretched and returned to
to cloak themselves in darkness. Sproat had chosen a handful of trusted men,
including the explorer who had brought him the information. He recognized some of
they from Tarrytown, but I didn't know any of their names. Kosciuszko had
stayed in Peekskill, but Grippy had approached, drawn by the gossip
about caves and treasures, but by early afternoon I was already looking at the
clouds that hung over us. The temperature had dropped again, and
our spring thaw seemed to have changed its mind.
Do you think it could snow? - Agrippa was worried. - I hate being cold, I hate
being cold and on horseback even worse, and I hate riding that horse in the cold when I
I am heading to enemy territory.

If that's what we've been told, you will return to the Point with your own ham.
General Paterson promised. - Mrs. Allen will prepare it for you and you will be able to eat every
bite your own.
I am going to make you fulfill it.

I am a man of my word,

Grippy nodded and smiled. —That's right, so there better be ham. One for
Bonny too. We have to fatten him up.
Our journey went smoothly, and we made quick progress under the
agitated clouds, constantly on the lookout and skirting surveillance points
known. The explorer, a man named Williby, seemed to know where he was going, and
when he suggested that we stop and let him and Sproat go ahead
to find out if the deposit was monitored or guarded, we accessed and
we dismantled in a stream that made its way through the trees, letting that
Our horses would rest and drink while we waited. Sproat and Williby.
They didn't take long to arrive, and Sproat was excited.
I don't know if it's the approaching storm, but there is no one watching.
opening is not much more than a depression in a rocky elevation, and it is easy
to overlook it. But it's as he said. I just took a quick glance, but the barrels
They have the Continental brand. There are at least a hundred barrels of beans and salted meat.
flour and lard, butter, molasses, everything.
Sproat ordered five men to stay with the horses and to others
five who will guard the door, and the rest of us will enter. Williby was waiting for us with a
flashlight on and her backpack already bulging. Sproat said nothing, and I assumed that at
they had promised the man his own ham... or whatever he wanted.
The cave looked small from the outside, the opening barely high enough
so that I could enter standing and only as wide as my outstretched arms. The
General Paterson and Colonel Sproat had to duck down, but less than three
Subways, the cavern opened up much more, and just as promised, the
the reward was considerable.
How did they get all this in here without anyone knowing? -Grippy said
Wonderful. —And how are we going to get it out?

They created a distraction,

Tarrytown. While some attacked, the rest were dedicated to hijacking the line of
supplies when I was passing by. They unloaded the barrels...
And they burned the carts, Williby finished. There is a ravine right above
the climb. Everything was lit up last summer. I found the buckets and the
hitches. But that's all. They burned them well.
How far are we from the river? asked the general.
Four miles, at most,
How is the terrain?
Easy. A man could cover it in an hour if he moves quickly.
What are you thinking about, General? Sproat interjected. Those barrels are
too heavy to carry them.
We will go down the North River with wheelbarrows. On barges.
 Thirty men could empty this in less than an hour, Sproat said.
One hour here. One hour to load everything, maybe two hours to return to the river.
with the heavy trucks. That leaves a lot of time to load the barges once
that we are there.
The general nodded. - We will arrive in the middle of the night, we will load and
We will go out and time our return with the change of the tide.
—How do we do it in Kingston —I said.

Just like we do in Kingston,

"It could work," said Sproat, and Grippy was radiant.
Can I take my ham now? he asked.

We didn't want to sleep near the warehouse, but the wind was howling and the night was
Williby took us a mile north, to the barn of a 'friend', and
we cuddled inside and had a feast of pickled eggs and
bottled peaches from the cave. Sproat passed a bottle of stolen wine,
but I barely wet my lips before handing it to the general. I needed
desperately empty the bladder and would have to wait until everyone
they were asleep. The men only had to leave. I would have to go a little
further away.

The space was huge, and we also brought the horses inside.
protecting them from the inclemencies of the weather and hiding them from anyone who
I could go through there. I leaned back against the chair and took out my book and my pen, without
desire to write, but needing an excuse to sit down while others
they lay down. Grippy and the general lay down and covered their eyes with the
hats like the others, and I started to scratch in the light of Williby's flashlight,
writing a letter to Elizabeth that was more of a list of the goods that
we had seen in the cave that something else.
I didn't want the general to see me leave. He would be the only one who would worry.
would mark my absence and my return. Sproat had assigned a man to
to watch, but everyone seemed pacified by the wine and unconcerned about our
security.
I know the farmer who owns this barn. He is a patriot. We will be here.
Well — Williby had reassured us.
Isn't there a book tonight, Shurtliff? asked the general, in a deep voice.
Maybe. Actually, I'm not that tired.
He growled and took off his hat from his eyes to be able to look at me.

Liar. You're dozing off there sitting.

I put my diary back in the saddlebag, stretched like the others and closed the
eyes, convinced that my discomfort would prevent me from sleeping.

It wasn't like that.

I woke up hours later, the men around me were already moving, the light
The morning light was filtering through the cracks in the walls of the barn.

I woke up, stunned from having slept so deeply, and almost peed myself.
on top of that, my need was so desperate.
The general and the others were saddling their horses, speaking softly, and
I hurried to pass by them and ran out the door, heading towards the trees.
Alguien se rio y Grippy me llamó.
I need a moment. My intestines are a bit loose. Too much fruit.
I babbled.
The giggles multiplied, but no one followed them.
I walked, with my teeth clenched, until I was sure that no one could
worm and that no one had decided to come for me. I crouched behind a
bush, with my back against a tree, and I pulled down my pants
twisting to avoid the stream of urine hitting my shoes or
I will change my clothes. The last few months at the Red House had pampered me with a
private latrine and a door with a lock, and I had softened. I remained
bent down much longer than I normally dared, making sure to
that had emptied me before drying myself with the square of fabric that
I kept it in my pocket in case my period started, and I secured my clothes.
 The storm had passed and the air was fresh and cold. With the growing light, without the
wind to distract me, the environment felt familiar. The cherry orchard
the one my detachment had been pursued from was not far, and nearby there was a
large estate owned by a man named Jeroen Van Tassel. Captain Webb
he had rushed us through the area, claiming it was filled with loyalists
Dutch. I had no reason to doubt him, especially considering the
secret deposit and the ravine with the burnt wagons.
I parted my hair tie, straightened it with my fingers, and tied my ponytail back again.
I had left the hat in the stable and the canteen near the saddle.
I couldn't do anything else to fix myself up, but I was keeping myself entertained.
fearing an embarrassing return after my wild run towards the trees. No
he had been a good field assistant that morning.
They were waiting for me, all mounted, when I left the shelter of the
trees to the west of the corral. Grippy held the reins of my horse - he also
they had saddled - and I had thrown my hat over the doorknob. The
shame flooded my chest and I gathered my courage. But none of them did me
He was watching. His attention was fixed on a small elevation to the east of the wide
empty field. The forest surrounded the cleared plot on all sides, and among the
barely a cabin could be seen among the trees.

The horses became agitated, suddenly nervous, and the lightning

they rumbled and crackled. A mosquito buzzed past my ear and then
otro. Le di una palmada, aunque rechazaba la idea. Era marzo, no julio, y la
The storm had passed. The swarm was not bugs, but bullets.
The group of men who were waiting dispersed, blooming outward.
the field, and I shouted, not wanting to be left behind.

--Shurtliff -- shouted the general. --Run, boy!

But I was frozen in my spot, watching the drama unfold.
Grippy's horse was racing at full speed towards the northern trees, and Sense
Común was following closely. Sproat was trying to gather his men, but they
also ran toward the trees, some shooting, most simply
seeking refuge. Sproat gave up and spurred his mount, shooting at
the unknown assailants while leaning over the neck of his horse.
One of the horses was struck, and its rider fell from the saddle. Williby was shot down.
before reaching the trees. The general, who was still holding Lenox, fired
a burst with his musket and drew the pistol from his hip and fired again.
 A shot rang out that knocked the hat off his head and I shouted, running out.
from my astonishment. He collapsed, still clutching his weapon, and Lenox lunged towards
ahead, feeling the slack of the reins. Halfway there, the general
he/she detached from his/her back.

I started running towards him, with my arms and legs pumping, but not
I came very far. Two sharp cracks sliced through the air as if they had struck me.
hit with a whip on the calf and then on the thigh. I stumbled, fell and
I lay on the ground, with my cheek pressed against the earth.

It didn't hurt. A strange pressure reverberated in my groin, and I needed to empty my

bladder again. But that was fear, not pain.
There is nothing broken, I consoled myself. I was quite sure that it was true.
I started crawling toward General Paterson, hoping another bullet would pass by.
whistling next to my head or sinking into my flesh, but none did.
He did not move, but his breathing continued and his heart remained strong.
under my palm. I felt the skull and ran my fingers through the hair. The blood came to him
covered his face and hid the front of his uniform, but the groove that it
it passed through the hair and a lump in the shape of a goose egg on the nape was its
only evident wounds. He had straight and healthy limbs, but lay like
a dead man, still holding onto his gun, and I couldn't move him, even if there wasn't
had a bullet -maybe two- in the left leg. It was still numb, but the boot
it filled with blood when I moved my toes. I went down on my knees and
I observed the elevation from where the shots were coming. I couldn't go that way.

My horse had disappeared. The general's horse had too, and I studied the
forest around me, trying to come up with a plan. I didn't know if the attackers
they would return, if Sproat and the others could come back, and I had nothing more than what
I was carrying it to help me.
If I was right, Van Tassel's farm should be around the corner.
corner. I would go in that direction. It was no more than half a mile, at most.

They could have easily been a thousand. Walking three meters would be a challenge.

—Elizabeth —I said. —Elizabeth, help me —I don't know what I was expecting, but I had no
to no one else to plead. I searched the forest again and pleaded with the general
that will awaken, feeling again her breath and the beating of her heart. Some
helmets and a mournful neigh sounded to my left, I reloaded the empty gun of the
general and I prepared for the worst. A moment later, Lenox headed towards
me with my head down and timid steps.
Oh, thank you, I breathed out, and I got up, refusing to consider that my leg
I wouldn't hold on. Lenox approached shuffling his feet and brushed his muzzle against the
general as a sign of apology. I took his reins, I begged him to stay.
I firmly lifted my good foot up to the stirrup, balancing myself up and over.
on his back in a desperate movement.
I will return, I promised the general, and I spurred the horse to make it run.
clinging to its back and to my weak plan.
It was as I thought, although each minute felt like an eternity. The great
white structure among the trees, the dependencies and the fields that are
they extended behind, it was just as I remembered. My regiment had taken a break
to drink water and rest by a wide stream that flowed into the river
a mile north on our first march towards the Point.
A young woman, with her bright dress against the dull sky, was
sitting on a spotted pony as if she had just gone out for a ride. When
saw me, urged his mount toward the house, screaming upon realizing I was approaching.
A feather danced on her pale cheek and the dark curls bounced on her.
back while shouting: —Dad!
That was also a blessing. If I disassembled myself, I doubted I could.
get up again.
A man dressed in a crimson coat and buffalo-colored breeches came out of the
house, with its big belly bouncing with every step. The young woman who had announced my
arrival took apart and stayed by his side, smiling at me as if all of that were
a great adventure. He demanded that she return home, but she ignored him. Me
I incorporated and did everything possible to strengthen my spine and project my voice.

I am a soldier of the Continental Army, sir. My commanding officer has been

injured and lying in the nearby field. They shot at us and our group scattered.
I can't lift it by myself, and I need assistance and accommodation until I'm done.
travel conditions.
I didn't know whether to reveal Paterson's name or rank. A general was a
valuable prisoner. In 1776, General Lee had been surrounded by a regiment
British in an inn in the New Jersey countryside, for rejoicing and
celebration of the loyal ones. The Americans had become demoralized. But they
it was about neutral territory, and civilians were required in these areas to
respect the rules of combat, regardless of their policy.
I need help, I repeated. A car, a horse, and a man to help me.
to put the injured officer in it.
"I have nothing more to give," said the man, raising his chin and
crossing his arms over his big belly. —I've been helping for seven long years.
army. I have already done quite a bit.

I aimed the general's gun at his face. I wasn't afraid of him. I feared that the
General Paterson was dead before I returned. - What is your
Name, sir?
You will leave here immediately, he demanded, his face turning as red as
his coat. —I won’t be intimidated by every scoundrel that walks by here.
Your name is Van Tassel. Is that correct?
The man frowned and the sides of his mouth sank into the heavy.
double chin.
This is neutral territory. You cannot refuse to assist an officer. If you do not...
I will voluntarily confiscate your property.

—You alone? —he mocked.

Only one bullet will be needed to make you more pleasant. And if that officer dies,
You will have an army at your door. I swear.
He looked at me intently for another moment, testing my determination. My wound
it was evident, she was desperate and he knew it. But despair makes one
dangerous people.
—Morris —he called toward the African servant who had come out from the side of the.
house when the daughter had started to caw. The man's clothes were
worn out and her face shone with sweat, as if she had interrupted her
work.

Van Tassel pointed to me. —Morris, help this man. Use the barn. And do it.
Quick. I am expecting guests.
 The man nodded once and disappeared in the direction he had come.
came, and Van Tassel pushed his daughter back toward the house and closed the door behind
they, making their displeasure and reservations clear.

I collapsed over the horse's neck, trembling so violently that

I was unable to reholster the gun in the saddle. I composed myself for
a moment, breathing through clenched teeth and ignoring the blood that was there
darkened the left leg of my underwear and was oozing through the hole of the
I'll take care of it when I can.
Morris reappeared minutes later from the side of the house with a horse and
a car. A boy about nine or ten years old was perched on the back of the
horse, with a felt hat on its head and rags wrapped around
the feet to protect them from the cold. His outfit was not very different from that of the half
of the soldiers of the Point.

Amos can ride your horse when we have your man.

Morris, pointing at the boy. —The car fits two, and you look like you're about to fall.
from that chair.

I ignored that, and Morris turned behind Amos, letting me lead.

The general lay where he had been left, with his eyes closed and the
open extremities. I separated from Lenox, gritting my teeth, and dragged myself
by his side. He was breathing and his heart was stable, but he no longer reacted.

Is this General Washington? Amos shouted.

"No. But he is a general," murmured Morris, observing the uniform. I
He looked with an honest gaze. —Are you sure you want to stay with Van Tassel, soldier?
He is not a friend.

I have no choice. Help me put it in the car. Please.

I tried to help, but Morris shoved me away and squatted down.
next to the general. He sat him down and then threw him over his shoulder as if he were a sack of
grain. The general was a big man, but Morris was even bigger.
I got into the car and Morris handed the general into my arms, supporting his
he crushed his head against my chest. The general's legs were too long
for the cart, and Morris set them aside so they wouldn't drag. I put a
hand around Paterson's belt and another around his chest to prevent
that it would fly out again, and Morris helped Amos climb onto Lenox.
 The half-mile back to Van Tassel's barn was the longest and most painful.
that I have never experienced. I was fading away, my battle fever was
turning into a cold sweat. Morris moved slowly, carefully, and I tried
gather what strength I had left for what was coming next.
Morris threw the general on his back when we arrived, and I stumbled.
behind him, focused simply on keeping myself upright.
It's not hot, but it's dry, said Morris, lowering the general to the straw.
I will bring you water, bandages, and a little of Maggie's ointment for your wounds.

I didn't know who Maggie was, but I nodded, grateful.

I will take care of the horse, and I will ask the young lady to bring you what I cannot.
he may. He has a softer heart than his father.
He removed Lenox's saddle and the backpacks from his flanks and left me to
that I would search through the general's belongings in search of something that would help us.
I located her first aid kit, a small bottle of brandy, and some letters that I returned to
the leather bag where I found them.
Morris brought water, strips of rags, and a can of ointment that smelled like
hazelnut bark and something I could not distinguish. Van Tassel's daughter was following her.
with two blankets and a curious expression.

It will maintain the putrefaction of your wounds and will even numb a little the
pain --said Morris about the ointment.
--He's dead --said the girl, poking the general's boot with her foot.
Look at him.
I did it, and I wasn't, although his words made the ice me
it will run through the veins.

He just hit his head, I said. He will wake up and we will leave.
She shrugged and dropped the blankets beside her.
I will try to bring some food later. Dad is going to throw a party. Maybe not.
I could escape —the girl was pretty, maybe seventeen years old, and probably
I had seen a lot, growing up in the midst of a battlefield, but if your heart
It was soft, I saw no sign of it. She came out of the barn with curls and skirts.
undulating.
 It would be better if you keep out of sight,
he would think that I could wield my gun and enter the house. —I will watch and I
I will make sure no one strolls around here, but if the general doesn't wake up, you
You should leave, and leave as soon as you can. These people are not friends of the
regimental.
Thank you, Morris.
He nodded and left me with a flashlight, closing the door and locking it.
behind them.
I cleaned the general's wound, covered it with an ointment, and bandaged it.
blank, unable to do anything else. Then I grabbed the knife from her first aid kit and sprayed it.
with brandy, as I had seen others do. It was flat, with one end
sharp, good both for picking and for stabbing. It was the only utensil.
what a soldier was carrying.

I got rid of the blood on the boot and took off my sock, fearing what would happen.
I would find them when I took off my panties. They were stuck to my skin, and my fear was
even worse than the pain.

my vision blurred and my stomach churned, but I removed the fabric and
I looked at the black hole that oozed in the flesh of my left thigh. I wasn't very
bad appearance, although I knew that the bullet was still lodged somewhere.

One thing at a time. The wound that had filled my boot with blood was a bullet.
completely different. I had cut the meat from my calf, creating a
a gash similar to that on the head of the general. It was ugly and jagged, but not deep.
I drank the brandy, I smeared the wound with a bit of ointment and bandaged it with
a bandage, sure that a doctor could not have done more.
I poked the hole in my thigh with terrified fingers, hoping to
find the bullet beneath the surface and take it out without having to dig. Digging could
suppose a problem.
Breathing stumbled between my teeth and the moan I denied.
It burned in my chest. I poured a little brandy into the hole and almost lost control.
about the here and now.
I couldn't faint when I wasn't wearing anything. I folded the belt and I
I put it between my teeth, something to bite when I felt like screaming. Yes.
A man could hold back his screams, I could hold back mine.
 It took me several attempts. The small spoon-shaped tool slipped from me.
it slipped in my hand and the sweat stung my eyes. I vomited once and had to
to take a break, but on the fifth attempt, with tears of agony running down my
cheeks, I spit out the belt from my mouth and freed the lead intruder from my thigh.
Oh, thank you. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, I whispered. The blood bubbled through the
, but my relief was so great that I almost burst out laughing. I sprayed it again with
brandy, I emptied the rest of the bottle to ease the pain and smeared the wound with it.
Maggie's ointment. I sold it to her with trembling hands before getting on the ...
pants soaked by the legs and hips, and I tightened them at the waist
before falling into an exhausted slumber, curled up next to my general.
 Chapter 17

ONLY POWERS

I woke up much later upon hearing voices on the other side of the barn wall.
Night had fallen and the cold light of the moon was filtering through a high opening.
over our heads.
The pain in my leg immediately reminded me where I was and the danger.
that was running, together with the man who was next to me.

The voices receded -probably Morris and his boy- and I sat up from
I was terrified that the general had abandoned me while I was sleeping.
Her skin was warm, but not too much, and her lips slightly parted. The barn
It was cold enough for his breath to be visible, and that comforted me.
sign of life, although its continuous stillness terrified me.
I forced myself to take stock of our circumstances, even though the only thing that
what I wanted was to sleep. I lit the lantern, drank a little water, emptied my bladder in the
earth and I applied a little more ointment on the wounds. They looked like
terrible and felt even worse, but they were not bleeding nor had a fever, I straightened up the
calzones and I returned with the general.

He seemed to be sleeping, with his huge body stretched out on the straw, but not
he didn't respond at all. I had slept curled up next to him, sharing the
the heat of my body and taking advantage of yours, but I pushed aside the blanket that I had
I laid him down and proceeded to examine his extremities and torso more carefully.
that I had been capable of at the beginning. Surely I had missed something. Something
terrible.
The wound on his head was swollen and ugly, but it was the injuries that
I couldn't see those who chilled my blood. I ran my hands over the shoulders and the
long arms. His fingers did not bend or flex when I touched his palms.
I unbuttoned his vest and lifted his shirt, searching his skin for something that was
I would have overlooked it. I was hot and too thin – everyone
we were too thin-, which somehow made him appear even more
long, even bigger, and tears welled up in my eyes and tickled me
nose while I ran my hands over her body, whispering my apologies
while I was examining it. Despite my audacity, I did not find a single one.
bruise. His injured head was to blame, and I could do nothing for him.
Wake up, John Paterson - I begged him, straightening his clothes and stifling
my tears. —We have to get out of here.
I put him on his side to relieve the pressure on the big bump at the back of his neck and I
I brought the saddlebag closer so that it could serve as my pillow. I lay back down next to him.
exhausted from the effort, I covered us again with the blanket, curling up against him
and resting my cheek against hers on the saddlebag. Our faces were close to each other.
few centimeters, her breathing steady, mine rough, but I didn't close the
eyes. I didn't dare. I was tormented by fear, guilt, and pain, and I started to
to pray, crying out for God's attention.
Mrs. Thomas must have prayed in the same way for her ten children.
That thought did not comfort me.
Death had come again and again to the Thomas family despite the
desperate pleas from just parents.
It wasn't fair, but it was tenacious. I was like Jacob from the Old Testament.
Jacob who became Israel. Jacob the usurper. The supplanter. Jacob who
he fought with God and refused to give in until he had His blessing, a blessing that
he did not deserve it. Jacob who stole the birthright from his brother.

It was not my brother's birthright that I had taken, but his name.

Take me, God. Take me —I pleaded. Perhaps God would take us to the general.
and to me. The wounds on my leg could ooze. It was more likely not to, but
I never intended to survive.
I could do nothing more for John Paterson. I couldn't fight. I couldn't
run. He could only walk. The Jacob who became Israel made his way in
my thoughts again. When God was done with him, he was left almost lame.
I prayed until my words dragged on and my mind went blank.
Before falling asleep, I pleaded with God once more, offering myself instead.
from John Paterson, a terrible deal, I knew that, but sincere. And then I begged for
Elizabeth would send him back if he tried to meet her.
 We need him, Elizabeth. I know he would prefer to stay with you. But send him.
back if you see it. Please, Elizabeth.

It was the rumble of his voice, barely above a murmur, that made me
I woke up again, hours later, and I got up abruptly, looking him in the face.
It was dawn and I had no sense of the time that had passed. I had a full bladder,
my leg was hurting, but John Paterson was awake.
At some point, he had rolled over on his back and blinked slowly,
as if his eyelids were heavy, but his blue gaze focused on my face.
General Paterson? Can you speak with me, sir?
Is there any reason for you to take my hand, soldier? -he whispered,
effort made the words crack.

I was too happy to be embarrassed. — Yes, sir. I feared that

you died while I was sleeping. And I could no longer stay awake. So I
I took you by the hand to keep you here.

It seems to have worked - his hand flexed around mine, and I

I found myself clinging to her more tightly.
I didn't think you were going to wake up - my voice broke and I cleared my throat, trying
to control me.
"Where are we?" he purred.
We are in a barn. It belongs to a loyal toad named Jeroen Van Tassel.
It has a house with at least a dozen rooms and, judging by its color and
your circumference, a lot of wine and food in your warehouses. I request permission to
accompany a raid on your property when we return to the Point.
Permission granted - it blinked again, a slow and agonizing rise.
from the eyelids, and made a grimace of pain. -And why... are we in his
barn?
What do you remember, sir?
 The provisions. The cave.
We were attacked on our return. I don't know why. And I don't know who. It was a
chaos. Men and horses scattered. Colonel Sproat and Agrippa were still alive
cuando los vi por última vez, ambos aún sobre sus caballos. Pero no sé de los
others.

—The men of DeLancey?

I don't know. Probably. But we surprised them... and they us
They were surprised. I don't think it was a planned attack.

He grunted and brought his left hand to his head, feeling the bandages.
I feel like my head is nailed to the ground.

A musket ball pierced your hat. It split your hair and made you
a furrow, but it didn't embed. However, it pulled you off the horse. You have the forehead
a bump and a big lump on the back of the neck, so I tried to turn your face.

—In front and behind? How did I manage that?

I'm not sure, sir. Talent, I suppose.

— Don't make me laugh, Shurtliff — he huffed, and his mouth twitched. My tears
they started to fall seriously.

Do you remember me then? I choked.

His/her eyelids closed and did not open.

— General?— he didn't answer, and I thought they had sunk him again.
General? —I gave him a few pats on the cheek, seized by panic.
General!
His eyes opened again, and his gaze was clearer.
You were praying. Out loud. You said his name.
Whose?

—My wife. You asked Elizabeth to send me back —her hand is

he flexed around mine and I realized that I was still holding his hand
right with the left. I didn't dare to let go of it.
 I nodded, not trusting my emotions enough to
Responder. A large part of my anguished pleas I had made in silence,
but someone had been listening.
It's very cold here,
I am fine, sir.
You're not. You're covered in blood, you're crying and your skin is hot.
I forced myself to loosen my grip and let it go.

Most of the blood is yours, sir - I lied. - And my tears

they were also for you.

Aren't you hurt?

I was. They hit me in the left leg, but I will heal. There is no damage.
permanents —I was waiting. —My horse escaped.
And mine?
Your horse is in the Van Tassel stable.
He sighed heavily, grateful, and we fell silent again.
How long have we been here?" he asked.
I'm not sure. A whole day... maybe a little more. But we have to
to leave. I was warned that Van Tassel is not a friend, although I didn't need the
Warning. The only concern shown has been for a servant named
Morris and the daughter, although I think it’s more curiosity than care in her case. I asked
water and blankets. She brought them, but little else.

How do you know it's a loyal one?

He is fatter. Richer. More comfortable. He doesn't have the appearance of those who are harassed and
the worn out.
Ahh.
I could go alone, sir, now that you are awake. Now that I know that I am not being...
he is going to die. And I can bring help.

He rolled to one side and got up, assessing his head. I hurried to
helping him, sitting down as well.
 He was swaying, but he recovered quickly. —My head hurts, but the
the rest of me is fine. I need a drink... and to pee.
I handed him the water bottle, he drank deeply and returned it to me empty.

Can you manage with just the other, General? I asked, preparing myself
for the worst.
If I can't, I'm sure I won't be able to sit on a horse.
I don't know if he can ride yet, sir.
Can you help me stay in the chair.

The alarm ran down my back. You don’t feel like a kid, Rob.
I wouldn't be able to walk back to West Point. I knew that. I wasn't in
conditions. I didn't believe that my wounds had reopened, but they hadn't even
started to heal. I would have to cling to him with my arms and pray that
the chest on his back will not betray me.
I nodded and stood up, testing my leg. It was neither better nor worse than
before. But now the general was watching me.
Your underwear is soaked in blood. Where were you shot?
—he asked.
I took off my socks, exposing the bandage on my calf, and
quickly I put them back on. My legs, even bandaged and splattered with
blood, they were definitely feminine. My hair was too fine and light, my
calves too narrow.
—That doesn’t explain the blood on top.

Your head was in my lap when we brought you here.

He fell silent and I thought he would lie down again.
I owe you my life, Shurtliff. Isn't that right?

Yes, sir. He does. So I would appreciate it if you don't lose it soon.

He huffed and got up cautiously, using the wall to steady himself.

He closed his eyes as if the barn were spinning.
I will go get the horse, sir.
 I'm not going to ask how.
I'll take care of it.

I trust that you will do it.

I left him, still unsteady, but on his feet, with his hand wrapped around the post.
close. I heard him gagging behind me and vomiting the water he had just drunk.
"Damn it," she groaned, but I let her manage, grateful that her.
misery will distract her from mine.
Morris was approaching, with a bucket in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other,
while I was limping out of the barn.
We are leaving. I need the general's horse.
It stopped, the water splashed at the edge, and then it gave me both things.

Van Tassel won't like you taking that horse. He believes it is his now.
Ya tiene un comprador.

—So I have saved him from a huge mistake.

I will bring it and help you saddle it. But it would be better if you go. It hasn't even
an hour that has gone, but it wasn't going far.

As soon as you bring the horse - I agreed, and turned around.

General Paterson was waiting for me. His color was an alarming gray,
but his eyes were clear and his gaze firm. He took a piece of the bread that I offered him and
he/she watched me while I filled the canteen and picked up the few things I had
taken out of the backpacks.

You can only walk,

My calf hurts - I didn't say anything about my thigh.
Morris returned, guiding Lenox, put the saddle on his back and tied the bundles.
without saying a word. I almost moaned with relief. I had no strength to lift it from the ground.
Morris held the reins while Paterson climbed into the saddle and grabbed onto the part.
back of his coat as he staggered. For a moment I thought that the general
it would have fallen on the other side, but it held up.

Come on, Shurtliff —Paterson cut in.

 Morris approached, willing to help me too, and I let him.
settling into the horse's back and leaving the saddle to the general. The horse
he moved and I slipped, unable to hold my thighs to stay seated.
Hold on to him, boy,
surrounding the general's waist with his arms. He was stiff and breathing as if
I was about to get sick again.
Do you know where you're going? Morris asked me, his eyes fixed on my face.
Cinderella of the General.

We are about four miles east of the river, I replied. Peekskill is to the
north.

Morris nodded affirmatively. —Don't go down the path. Not yet.

Van Tassel will return home over there. And who knows who will be with him. Follow the stream
until you reach the fork. Then find the way. It cuts off right at the
that one over there —he pointed towards the forest, and the general thanked him.

If you need... anything... come to me,

Welcome to the good men. All the good men.
I have a wife and the child,
Van Tassel could sell us whenever he wanted. I can't be a soldier.
Tell Van Tassel the truth. We took the horse, I reminded him.
Morris, suddenly worried about him. —He doesn't need to know that you helped us. Tell him
that I threatened to shoot you, as I did with him.
You should leave. Now.
—Thank you, Morris —I said.

-Don't thank me. Just go -he said, urgently. -And go slowly or you'll never
you will manage — he wrapped the reins around the saddle horn and put the
hands of the general over them. Then he pushed Lenox.
I didn't look back, but I felt their gaze as we disappeared among the
trees.
Our combined misery was palpable, and during the first mile more or
less, the general held onto the handle and I held onto him, my arms trembling and
my legs screaming with the effort of keeping us both upright. The space
what I had believed I could maintain was nonexistent.
 Our Father who art in heaven - I whispered.
"Are you still praying, Shurtliff?" the general's voice was painful.

Yes, sir, I said. It's heavy. And I am... weak.

We will go slowly, as the man said. And we will hold on to each other.
we will trust in the horse.

Yes, sir —Lenox was pleased and the clouds moved, and I prayed silently.
"Did you threaten Van Tassel with a gun?" he suddenly asked.
general.
He refused to help me.
He grunted, and I wasn't sure if it was laughter or pain. —Talk to me —he demanded.

—Sir? If I'm talking, I can't hear —I was expecting company at the

the turn of each curve, and we had kilometers to go before reaching
friendly territory.
The horse is listening - his voice was tense and his grip on the handle had
desperate return. I tightened my arms. I doubted that, in his current state, he would give in.
It's all for nothing. — My head is spinning. I can't tell the ground from the sky.
he confessed.
Close your eyes, I instructed him. If the horse can hear, so can you.
ver.
Talk to me,
Do you like Shakespeare, sir?
He grunted. It sounded like an agreement.

—King Lear?, Much Ado About Nothing?, Romeo and Juliet?

I was never interested in the latter.

No. Me neither. I have never been able to understand the appeal.

Aren't you a romantic, Shurtliff?
No, sir. I prefer Hamlet. The Merchant of Venice. Othello.
 Why? - I was doing everything I could to maintain my part of it.
conversation.
I understand the Moor. His need to prove himself. I didn't care.
a lot about how he treated the woman of his life, but that was also understandable.

It is the curse of virility.

What is it, sir?
The need to prove oneself.
Gruñí, pero no discrepé. Lo consideré un rasgo compartido por los sexos, pero
I thought it was better not to discuss it.

I always knew what my father wanted, continued the general. I knew

exactly what was expected of me. Virtue. Strength. Integrity. The things that he
what I wanted for myself became things that I wanted for myself.
I wanted him to go to school. I wanted him to study Law. To take care of
of my mother and my sisters, and have my own family. God, family, homeland. That one
it was his motto, although the homeland did not mean for him... what it means to me. A
I wonder what he would think about our cause.
Was he military? - I knew he was.

—Yes. Their service took it away. Just like mine did.

Where to, sir?
He died in Cuba of yellow fever when I was eighteen years old.
I'm sorry, sir.
He was a good man. At least... I think he was. I hope he was.
"What is a good man?" I asked, trying to get him to keep talking.
My father once told me that courage is the quality that defines the
true greatness. Not talent. Not power. Courage. That has been my goal.
Some days, my only goal. I'm afraid my lack of personal ambition was a
great disappointment for Elizabeth.

He was almost murmuring, but the conversation had taken a surprising turn.
I desperately wished it would continue.
 I will not be the kind of man that history remembers. At this juncture... my
my own children will not remember me.

The war has been harder on women, I said. History does not...
he/she will not remember at all.

What a strange kind you are, Shurtliff, she sighed. —An old and wise soul in the
body of a child.

My laughter was almost a sob. —I was born old, sir.

—Sí. Creo que sí. Háblame de tu padre.

I never knew my father.
And your mother?

He sent me to live with a family when my father left.

words with care. —I have seen her only a handful of times since that.
I was five years old.

When this is over, I will go home to Lenox, Massachusetts. Where will you go?
I'm not sure. I don't think that far ahead, I said. I didn't allow myself to think.
with so much advance notice.

No. I don't think so. You are always thinking.

Yes, sir. But not about the future. The present is already quite enough for me.
exhausting.
I rested my forehead on his back, trying to support him without knocking him over. I could
to feel the moments when he was teetering on the edge of consciousness. Perhaps
tire out the fatigue, but it swayed at intervals, and we would have achieved
staying in the chair for the last hour was nothing short of a miracle.
"Sir, if they attack us, we're done for," I gasped.

Keep talking, Shurtliff. If you don't, then I'm finished.

I don't know what to say, sir.

Tell me about yourself.

I have not allowed myself to wish for anything too much.

 He swung and I shook him, scared.
I'm here, boy. Here I am. Go ahead. You want nothing.
too much...
I would like to have a family someday,
I wanted a husband. Just children.

Do you have a girl in mind? he asked, slightly dragging the

words.
I don't want a wife.

—Not? The children could be a difficulty then —humor, even in

middle of the fight. I liked that and I laughed.

I want to be loved madly or not at all. I can't imagine.

to find someone who loves me madly —I was babbling, but I doubted
that he will remember it.

Why not?
Because no one has ever done it.
You're still young,” he murmured, and his chin sunk even further into his chest.

Tell me about your children, sir, I asked him.

I have daughters. Little daughters. Princesses, all of them. Like their mother. Hannah,
Polly and Ruth.
I knew everything about Hannah, Polly, and Ruth, but I encouraged her to continue.

Hannah and Polly are brunettes, like Elizabeth. Ruth looks like me, even the
the chin crease and the forehead furrow. Poor thing.
Talk to me about Mrs. Paterson. Did she resemble the painting in her room?

She was small and... round, she said, although she knew she was round like the
the majority of women want to be it. Light skin, dark hair, big... eyes
browns. The painting is very similar.
Small and round. Like Mrs. Thomas. Somehow, it was
exactly as I had imagined it. Only John Paterson did not match the
image that I had created for him. He continued, as if he recognized that she was worthy
of a compliment, even in its diminished state.
Elizabeth era... easy... to love. She was intelligent... ...and good... and beautiful. She was
the type of woman who... seizes quickly, and I didn’t hesitate. As soon as it was
of legal age, I went to see his father and presented my case. I never doubted that it was the
right decision. It gave me three daughters, it gave me tranquility, it gave me friendship and support.
God and God... and now he is gone. And I am still here, fighting in this endless war,
wondering what all this is for.
I am very sorry, General.
I do too,
Hang in there, sir. It's not much longer. It's not much longer - I lied. We had left
kilometers to go.
Just keep talking, Rob. Keep talking.
He had called me Rob, and that gave me courage, as if the Thomas brothers
they gathered around me, challenging me to move forward.
I started reciting everything I had learned, pulling the words from the
nooks of my mind, proverbs and catechisms, entire scenes from The Merchant
from Venice to keep us both upright. The general murmured and
he balanced, but he stayed in the chair, and so did I.
We arrived at Peekskill Hollow just before dawn and were greeted by a guard.
that the general's horse recognized before realizing that we were
We. A horn sounded, feet stomped, and twenty men arrived at the
race, Grippy in front.
Oh, thank God, the general moaned. Are you, Agrippa?
It's me, sir. It's me. Praise the Lord.
I thought I would never see you again, my friend - the general was swaying, but
I smiled, and the tears had started to run down my cheeks. I had also
fearing the worst, seeing Agrippa Hull safe and sound shattered even the last
a loophole in my control.
The General Paterson needs help - I called, trying to clean my face.
against his bent back. —He is injured.
 The arms raised to pull us down, but I was unable to let them go,
how cramped his arms were.
Let it go, Bonny,
impotence.
I can't.
The general crouched down and let go of my arms, and I slid off the chair, trying
I was trying to put all my weight on the good leg. But I fell flat on my face.

"Bring Doc Thatcher," shouted Grippy.

-No. I'm fine -I insisted, letting Grippy help me up.
Take care of the general. I'm just tired.
"You did well, Bonny. You did well," murmured Grippy, holding me.
upright.
Paterson managed to stay on his feet while they helped him down.
from the chair, and I wrapped my arm around her waist, on one side, Grippy on the other, and
we staggered to the hospital while Grippy kept us updated on everything
what we had missed.
 Chapter 18

THE CONSENT OF THE GOVERNED

Dr. Thatcher looked into the general's pupils and cleaned the wound that split his
hair, then declared that he needed a tonic for his aching head and someone
that will wake him up every hour. -He has swelling, general. No doubt. But beyond
from a headache and an interesting scar, it should heal well.
I stayed by the door, eager to help and desperate to be alone.
Grippy had gone to get us something to eat and to take care of the general's horse,
that was the true hero of the moment. Grippy was too cunning and had
I took immediate note of my condition. I needed to clean myself up before he/she returned.

The soldier Shurtliff needs attention,

Protesting would be more appealing than submitting in silence, and when the doctor
he gestured for me to move forward, I sat where he indicated and pulled down my
media, as I had done before.
Dr. Thatcher cleaned it, declared me lucky, and applied another layer of thick.
ointment in the groove that the bullet had created in my calf. — You have a
a bullet-sized hole in your underwear and you are stained with
blood from the hip to the feet —she was looking at my thigh.

It is the blood of the general, sir, and the hole is nothing more than a tear that
I had along the way.

He furrowed his brow and finished bandaging my leg. —The assistant of a general
It should be clean in appearance. You should take care of that immediately.

General Paterson huffed. - Calm down, Thatcher. The boy has had something.
more to worry about than a snag in your uniform.
You can't give these men an inch, Paterson. You know better.
that nobody.
 I have clothes in my saddlebags. Grippy will retrieve them and find something to
Shurtliff —said the general. —My assistant deserves praise, not a reprimand.
My horse was lost, my saddle too, along with everything I had.
in the saddlebags, and could do nothing about it. I had other things that I
to worry me.
Could you give me another bandage, Dr. Thatcher? I asked her.

"For what?" he asked, frowning. He resembled his aunt a lot.

when he/she looked at me like that.

I would like to wash myself, sir, and the bandage could get wet.

Supplies are precious, soldier.

For the love of God, Thatcher,
I will check on you again in a bit, Paterson. You can sleep here in the
hospital —pointed to a couple of empty beds against the wall and looked at me. —Don't forget
wake him up on time.
I limped into an empty room, carrying a bucket of water,
I closed the door behind me. Then I undressed, washed myself as thoroughly as I could, I
I put more Maggie ointment on the ugly hole in my thigh and bandaged it well,
praying for God to heal me and also heal the general. Then I used the cube
as a urinal, I threw the contents out the window and prepared myself for whatever might happen
to pass.

The general was sleeping, but Agrippa had returned with clean clothes for both of us.
I was startled for a moment, knowing that stepping away to change would be strange -
los hombres no exigen intimidad para esas cosas-, pero Agrippa volvió a marcharse
almost immediately, which gave me a moment to take off my dirty shirt and
put on ill-fitting underwear. I tightened the laces and dragged the cot that
he was close enough to the general to be able to reach him and touch him
during the night.
 Don't worry, soldier. I will watch over him. You rest,
enter through the door, hanging a bottle of rum from one hand while
dragging with the other a rocking chair that came from unknown places.

Dr. Thatcher says I must wake him every hour, I insisted.

I know. But it hurts you more than you say, so you are going to rest and I will
I will sit here.

I took a long swig from the bottle of liquor that was offered to me, with the hope of
relieve the pain, and I returned it, relaxing with a barely suppressed moan.
Don't let him sleep too much, Grippy,
that he wouldn't wake up again.
I will take care of him. Now shut up, said Grippy, leaving the bottle on the ground.
He spread a blanket over the general and put another over me. - You took good care of the
general, Bonny, and I will not forget it. I take care of my own. You no longer have to take
fear.
Her presence and the slow, heavy creaking of the chair calmed me a lot.
more than the rum. Her kindness made my throat hurt and my hands tremble.
heart, but I kept my voice steady and my eyes dry.

Thank you, Grippy. But I'm not afraid—not in the way he thought. Not in
the way other men had him.

—Not? —he murmured. —I think so. That's why you try so hard. I have never
I've never seen anyone work so hard in my life. And I'm not the only one who has realized this.
account. Your reputation precedes you, Bonny, even before you appeared in the
Red House. You are much more than you seem.
"I am not afraid," I insisted again, fading quickly. I was
too tired to be afraid. —But I also take care of my own. It is
No... I don't have many friends left. Almost all of those who matter to me are...
here.
That's why you're afraid. I understand. You're afraid of losing the rest.
A sound as if I had everything figured out.

—But now you are one of us —he continued, leaning forward.

to give me a pat on the arm. I tried not to flinch at the contact,
an involuntary reaction, but he made a gesture as if he understood it too.
The general and I will take care of you.

I guess that, in a way, he had me figured out. He was more afraid of losing my
a site where I would lose my life. But with Grippy sitting next to me, I didn't either.
fear of losing, and I closed my eyes and surrendered to my wakefulness, letting him have it
would stay for a while.

Agrippa and Colonel Ebenezer Sproat had returned before us.

They and the others had chased the men who shot at us, killed
two of them and took the others prisoner. The shooters claimed that they believed
we were loyal, but Sproat was not convinced and made them walk at gunpoint
from the pistol to Peekskill Hollow, where they were prisoners. When they returned
After the shooting, to meet the general and me, we had disappeared, and not
they had no idea whether we were alive or dead, captured or hiding.
Colonel Sproat felt almost as relieved to see us as Agrippa did, and he whistled.
long and careful when hearing our story.
Jeroen Van Tassel has been a thorn in my side since the beginning. You have
lucky to have gotten out of there. I would have handed you over to DeLancey without hesitation if
I would have had the opportunity, although I would have gotten my money's worth. No
I would be surprised if he helped organize the attack on the supply train. That
the deposit is on your land. If we are going to get those provisions, it will be better that
let's do it soon.
We did not return immediately to the Point. Instead, General Paterson
It was arranged for two ships to carry a dozen hand carts and fifty.
men downstream will drop anchor in Eastchester and empty the tank that almost
had killed us. Colonel Sproat chose the men and led the mission. All
It went well and, three days later, the supplies were unloaded at Point.
Common Sense had not recovered, and they gave me such an old horse and
wobbly, the journey back to the Point was long, but neither the general nor I
we were in a position to rush. Doctor Thatcher wanted to do a
small hole in the skull to ensure that there was no hemorrhage
cerebral, but General Paterson declined the offer. He insisted that the doctor me
He took another look at the calf, and Thatcher poked it and declared that it was fine.
but he said he could bleed me if he thought it would alleviate my bad moods
wound.

— Do leeches help with the infection? — I asked. I was worried about the
thigh injury. It didn't seem infected, but it hurt deeply, like a
tooth in poor condition.

Yes. But I don't think your calf is infected. It's ugly, and the scar will be
as thick as the head of the general. But both wounds heal very
fast.
I wondered if it would be Maggie's ointment, and I kept applying it to myself in the
leg and on the general's head until the little boat disappeared completely.
Even so, General Paterson recovered much faster than I did, although I did
a brave attempt to pretend otherwise. By some miracle, my leg does not
I recovered, but I regretted not being able to run again without pain.

"You limp more this morning," the general said to me when I came to shave his face.
Almost a month after our narrow escape.
It's just stiff. The more I move, the better I'll feel.
He didn't argue, but he frowned while I was working. I pressed with my thumb.
in the crease and I rubbed it. - She has a furrowed brow, sir. Does your head bother you?

—No —he said, but he leaned into the pressure of my fingers and closed his eyes, and a
a torrent of affection burst from my chest. I lifted my chin and finished my task. It was
my favorite part of the day.
It's done. All ready, General. Very handsome - I said, energetically, as if I were his
mother and not a lovesick maid.
They shot off my scalp,
would suppose some difference.
I touched the thick wrinkled line that came out from the left side of his forehead and
it was disappearing at the crown. The loss of her hair covered her almost completely, but
When gathered in a line, the scar was quite impressive.
It gives it character, sir.

Don't kiss my ass, Shurtliff. It makes me like you less.

 Very well, General. You look terrible. Make sure to wear your hat.
She let out a giggle and the air stirred between her very thin lips. --Today I am going to the pen.
I will cross at Stony Point. Grippy will come with me. You will stay. Rest the
leg. I need to see how many heads we have, and I'll try to get another horse.
so that you mount. One that doesn't have a back like a barge.
I should go with you, sir.
Stay. Get up. Read your comment on the Apocalypse.
I have finished it, sir.
There is a whole shelf of comments of this type. The Book of Judges
It's horrible. That should please you.

The general was right. The comment about Judges was fascinating, and I read everything.
day, wrapped in my chambers, and I fell asleep early, lulled by my
inactivity. I woke up much later, jolted out of sleep by a presence in
my room and a candle that flickered on my bedside table.
General Paterson was sitting in my chair, with his hands clasped together between the
knees. She wore her hair loose over her shoulders, the sleeves rolled up and the
unbuttoned vest, as if he had started to get ready for bed and
se hubiera impacientado.

— General? Do you need me, sir? — I was not scared. I had never been.
given reasons to be so. But he was uneasy about the surprise visit. He hadn't
I heard to return and was not expecting him until tomorrow.

He raised the candle and brought it closer to my face, casting light from side to side as if
he will need to make sure it was me.
My eyes had not yet adjusted, I grimaced in pain and I gave myself the
return.
--General? --I pressed again. --What time is it? Is something wrong?
 I noticed the first time we talked that you already seemed to know me. And... I felt.
as if I knew you too, although I was sure that we didn't
We knew. You have a very different look.
It sounded so painful, and ice began to form in my extremities.
It seemed to me simply the connection that occurs between people of
related ideas. It was easy to talk to you, interesting. Even wise. And very brave.
For a sixteen-year-old boy, that impressed me.
He paused, and in the dancing light, his face looked hard and sunken.
But you are not a sixteen-year-old boy, are you, Shurtliff? You must have the
less than twenty-two... or twenty-three. And you are not a boy at all —said "boy"
with a note of disbelief.
I remained silent, not willing to admit anything until I knew what trouble I was in.
I had really gotten in.
When you wrote that first letter for me, the day you became
in my helper, a feeling of familiarity assaulted me again, but I didn't think
none of it. Nothing at all. I remembered Elizabeth, but many things...
make you think of her.
What happened? I whispered.
There is a ship captain from New Bedford. He leads troops. Weapons. Anything
something that he might have in his hands. I don't trust him. He works for both sides,
but I have bought supplies a few times. Today I was at King's Ferry
with his boat when Grippy and I crossed paths. I bought him some barrels of
wine. It had an interesting story to tell. About his daughter who wanted to be
soldier. He thought that maybe, as a commander at the Point, I might have heard
talk about her. Having seen her.

—Your daughter? —I asked, numb.

His name is Samson. He has a captivating look. It reminded me of yours.
Sir?
The chestnut horse you call Common Sense was recovered and returned to the
corral. I brought it here for you. Also the saddle. Your book was still in
the bags.
 I placed my diary on the small desk next to the candle and, for a moment,
I thought I could free myself from his trap. I had been very careful with my
annotations. Even if I had read them all -oh, my God-, I had not written a single one
only once about my identity or my deepest fear.
Grippy opened it, just to make sure it was yours. But when he leafed through it,
he thought that maybe the book was mine, since the entries were all letters to...
Elizabeth.

I swallowed. —I have a dear friend named Elizabeth.

—Yes. I know —he said softly.
I was very scared, but he didn't stop.
I keep all my letters. It has helped me in matters of war and business.
more than I can say. I never destroy a letter. Those letters can save
lives. I have all the letters you wrote to me. Even the one you sent not long ago.
a lot. The lyrics are the same —he paused and lifted his eyes to mine. Not
I could look away. —Are you a spy, Deborah Samson?
Please. Please, General. I don’t... I don’t... I didn’t have the words that
I needed. Why didn't I have the words? Why hadn't I made a plan?

— Why are you here? Why did you do this? — he asked,

sudden anger. -I want to hear it all. Every step, every breath, every
lie you had to tell to get here. And then I will decide what
do with you. God knows that you can't go on like this.

I got out of bed and fumbled for my underwear. When I had...

taken off, the nightgown was still damp from the wash, and in its place I had
I put on the shirt that I had left over. The tailcoat reached almost to my knees, but the
the general cursed as if he had nothing on.
What happened to your leg? - he grabbed the fabric and pulled it away from my thigh, and
I screamed, trying to pull away. I almost fell, but his fist in my shirt caught me.
stood up.

It is an old wound —I took the cloth from his hand.

-It isn't -she shouted. -You're lying!
I needed my clothes. I had to cover myself and I turned to the bed, frantic.
the altered corset I used to bind my breasts was folded under the
pillow. When I slept with other men, I had learned not to take it off.
never. But I had become careless in my own space, and sleeping without that
Pinching and pressing me had been too much for me to resist.
I could no longer do anything about it.

Cogí mis calzones, pero me agarró del brazo y me dio la vuelta. —¿Por qué
Are you here?
I shrugged again, desperate to hide. To run. To
waking up from this nightmare. I gathered my hair, trying to corral it into a ponytail,
to pull myself together, but I had nothing to tie it with. I was untied and
Unbuttoned. Unleashed. And he knew everything.

I can't believe this. I can't believe it - he rubbed his face as if

she would also think that she was dreaming. —You have to leave. Immediately. This
Night. My God, I'm starting to think that I have no instinct for character.
I fell to my knees, the reality of my situation weighed too heavily on me. —Please,
General. Please. Don't throw me out.

I had no pride, nor any other thought in my head than survival, and I
I leaned before him, desperate.
—Cover yourself, Miss Samson!

My shirt, with the loose ties and the low position, exposed the
chest that I had managed to hide from him and everyone else. I gasped and grabbed myself.
the breasts, but it was already too late.
Our combined horror pulsed in the air and, for a moment, none of
neither spoke nor moved. I remained on my knees, with my arms crossed over the
chest, and he remained glued to the door that connected our rooms.
"Please, get up," he pleaded.
I got up, my legs were shaking so much that I thought I would fall again.
to collapse.
Send me back to the ranks with my regiment, I begged him. I will go.
now. I will leave immediately.
I can't. I can't do it.
 Why? I am a good soldier. I have never complained or failed to my
duty.
"You are a woman!" he shouted.

I flew towards him and covered his mouth with my hands, horrified, trying to
call him. Someone would hear it. Someone would hear it, and it would really be over.

He grabbed me by the wrists, with betrayal in every line of his face.

We do not fight for the man who has it all and wants more, but for the
man who has nothing —I shouted, quoting him with all the fervor of my heart. It was
how to beg for my life.
What?
No man or woman born on earth can in any place
certain circumstances expect to truly escape from them. Our
the die is cast from the moment we inhabit the womb of our
mothers, since we breathe. But perhaps that can change here, in this land.
He shook his head, not understanding, but the amazement had begun to
replace his anger.
"Those are your words, General Paterson. Didn't you mean them seriously?" I challenged him.

—¿Mis palabras?
Yes. Your words. You wrote them in a letter that I received on my eighteenth birthday.
birthday. I thought they were a sign from God.
Did you memorize them?

Yes. I did. I exhausted your letter reading them. They inspired me. Were they just words?

Volvió a sacudir la cabeza, desconcertado. —Las escribí hace toda una vida.
Years have passed. Now I can hardly remember.

Repeat the verses, pronouncing each syllable.

Miss Samson...
I didn't want my luck. So I got ready, I said, interrupting him. No
I could not bear to be Miss Samson again. Not here. I had worked too hard and
supported too much.
 She looked for me with her gaze and, when I tilted my head to gather myself, she barked at me:
Look at me!
She had her hair loose over her face, she freed my wrists and pushed it away with her
rough palms of the hands, raising my chin to be able to study myself.
He looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time.

— May God help me. What a damn fool. What a damn fool — he breathed.
—Deborah Samson. My God.
And then he did the most unexpected thing of all.

He pulled me towards his chest and hugged me.

I was scared and my knees buckled, but he held me.

I had never been hugged. Not a single time in my memory had I been.
cradled in the arms of another, but John Paterson held me tight against his heart
like the prodigal son who returns home.
I didn't return the hug. I couldn't. I had my arms crossed over my chest,
guarding the heart in the chest, protecting the secret he already knew.
Please, don't kick me out - I choked. - I will return to the ranks. I will play the
I will play the fife or the drum. But do not force me to leave.

Do you know how to play the fife, Miss Samson? he asked, and his voice trembled.
just like me.
No. But give me a day or two to learn, sir. I am sure that
I can master it.
I was sincere, desperately, but his chest resonated under my cheek. I
I had made them laugh with my bravado.
But I couldn't laugh. I couldn't even breathe.
I have been shot, I hissed. I have been injured and I have killed. But I have served.
with courage -isn't courage the most important trait of all?- and I have
served well. I have earned the right to be here. Please do not deny it to me.
Please, don't take it from me. When this war is over, if God wills, I survive,
I will have to find my place in the world. But right now, my place is here.
By your side. Grippy said he was now one of you. Please let me finish it.
that I have started. Please let me carry it out.
 My throat hurt from the need to cry, but I stayed within the circle.
from his arms and I waited for his verdict. He held me for a moment longer, with his embrace
tight and her cheek resting on my hair. Then she pulled away from me and left the
room, closing the door behind him.

I tucked in my breasts, got dressed, and made the bed. Then I sat down in my chair,
too scared to venture out and too confused by what
it had just happened enough to form a plan. John Paterson had not insisted on
that I could leave. He hadn't told me that I could stay. I couldn't interpret.
better his hug than his abrupt departure.
I had left my diary next to the candle that was still burning. The flame was flickering and
tired, the wick a long charred line.
I opened my book and saw my words through a new lens, reading each
entry as John Paterson must have read them. It wasn't what I said that got me
he condemned, although he had foolishly mentioned Nat, Phin, and Jeremiah in a
entry. It was the greeting to Elizabeth in the hand of Deborah Samson that must have
wake him up. Once he had made the connection, each careful word would have
strengthened the relationship.

--Oh, Elizabeth --I whispered, trying not to cry. --What should I do?

I should pack my things and leave. But... I was enlisted. I couldn't

just leave. If I did, they would consider me a deserter. They hadn't
licensed. General Paterson would have to do it, and undoubtedly, when the
Tomorrow, I would present my papers and say goodbye. I didn't think I would tell him/her.
nobody would file charges. They would simply let me go and I would leave. And I wouldn’t return to
vengeance.
That was the worst of all.
Worse than private shame, worse than public censorship, worse than having nothing.
future nor home. Not seeing John Paterson again would be unbearable.
I turned to a blank page, prepared my pen, and started to write.
without keeping anything from myself, not even for myself.
 2 de abril de 1782
Dear Elizabeth,
You must forgive me. I didn't mean to love him. Not in this way. I admired him, I have
admired for so long, and I had so much affection for him. But this is not affection or
admiration. This is agony in my chest and fire in my belly. You are his woman. His
beloved and my beloved. And my feelings embarrass and alarm me. But no
I can deny them.
The pain in my heart is the same as the day I found out you had gone.
incredulity, betrayal, the loss of my hope, and above all, the enormous void
of a world without you. But now it is magnified by the guilt of having betrayed you.
I love John, not only with my actions but with my feelings.
I wish you could give me advice like you used to. Remind me of the power and
the blessings of our sex, weren't those the words you used? I must
to be a woman again, and I am not ready. It's not that being a man is something
wonderful. The truth is that I am not and I will never be, I don't even want to be.
It has never been about changing myself. It has always been about
free myself. Now I am here, tied in body and soul to a man who does not
he wants, that he cannot love me, how could he?
I have looked mockingly at the girls who only wanted to get married, who sighed for
men as if they had the power to give them the world instead of controlling
simply your world. And now I am one of them. Now I just want to follow your
side. To take care of him, to love him. And that mortifies me. I wish you were here, and without
I’m glad you’re not here. What a terrible thing to write. What a thing.
terrible to feel.
I did not sign with my name or my initials when closing the entry. I was not
ready to be Deborah again, and Robert Shurtliff had been stripped.
Grippy said that I was one of them, but I wasn't. I had never been.
The diary no longer mattered. I would leave, and nothing I wrote on the page
I would change that now. I left the book open and let the ink dry, watching.
Fixing every horrible word. Contemplating the disaster that had been made.
 Writing to Elizabeth, as I had always done, seemed to me
perfectly benign. If any of my bunkmates had read my
words, nothing that I had said would have condemned me.
But I hadn't thought about John Paterson.
I should have thrown the book in the fire the day I moved to the Red House, but
I didn't think. And now everything was lost.
 Chapter 19

MODIFY OR SUPPRESS

The general had not slept in his bed. After our confrontation,
I heard him leave his chambers and he did not return. I placed his shaving kit and tidied up his
room. I didn't know if she had put on clean clothes, so I also laid them out for her and
I revived the fire in the grill. March had started with sun and heat and had
finished with half a meter of fresh snow. Traveling would be unpleasant and difficult.
Above all, alone.
Perhaps the general would let me stay until I had made other arrangements.
I could write to my mother, but I was sure that she had been informed about my situation.
first attempt to enlist myself. I had suffered more public humiliations than those that
Any woman should endure, and all at the hands of others. She could not turn to her.
I wouldn't do it.

I had some uncles in Stoughton who might let me live with them. They had a
farm and her children were already grown.

I could return to the Thomas's house, in Middleborough, with the elders of the
church and beg them to let me return. Maybe the community would forgive me if I
will drag enough.
I shook my head, scattering the thoughts that were not useful to me. The general
I would decide, and I would fulfill your wishes.

After remaining frightened in my chambers for almost an hour after

At the touch of dawn, I gathered my courage and headed to the kitchen to ask if the
If the general had already eaten or if I could bring him a tray.

Agrippa was alone at the kitchen table, enjoying breakfast with evident pleasure.
She looked up when I entered and answered my question about the whereabouts of the
general as if nothing.
 He said we should let you rest. He left with Colonel Jackson and said that he
I would meet with Colonel Sproat in Peekskill.
-Why? -that was all I could do to keep my voice steady.

—Van Tassel, the loyal one who let you sleep in his barn, was found dead.
The general found out and left at that hour. He would have gone, but Colonel Kosciuszko me
wants here —continued having breakfast, apparently unperturbed by the sudden
the departure of the general and the fact that I would have been left behind.

I collapsed into a chair, calling on all the strength I had left to

not to let myself fall apart. I felt no sympathy for Van Tassel - safe travels - but it was
a mission I should have been on.
Did General Paterson say... anything about... my position? My heart...
I was pounding hard and I brought my hands to my chest to make it stop.
What do you mean?

My leg has taken a long time to heal. I'm afraid the general needs a new one.
assistant.
It would be better if he decides.

When is it expected to return?

Agrippa shrugged. - He was worried about a slave named
Morris. He will return when he has made the preparations. I suspect it will be in a few days.
everything.

—Morris —I breathed, ashamed of myself. What would become of Morris, of his

son and the woman named Maggie? I doubted that he would ever know.
I can't stay here sitting. I'm going to go crazy, I whispered. And I would.
Better that I know my destination immediately than to prolong it until the return.
The general. Perhaps he expected me to leave in silence while he was gone.
That thought brought me a torrent of new anguish, and I rested my head.
in my hands, shaking the breakfast that Mrs. Allen placed in front of me.
--Are you feeling unwell, Bonny? --he asked, placing his hand on my forehead.
The nickname Grippy had become common among all the household staff.
No, ma'am,
 The general said that you were, and that he should be careful with you while
He is out. But if you feel better, I can keep you busy.
Grippy continued bringing breakfast to his mouth, without looking up from his
Plato. Unlike me, he looked like he had slept well; his clothes were
Impeccable and the very short hair accentuated her beautiful head.

We found your horse. Did the general give you your book? asked Grippy.
suddenly, as if he had just remembered the outing from the previous day.
I brought the breakfast closer, but I didn't eat. I didn't want to lie, I couldn't confess it.
everything, and I sat down, staring intently at the healthy serving of potatoes and sausages,
test of the loot that we had recovered from the depot raid.
---And who is Elizabeth? You said you didn't have any girl at home. Your book.
it's full of letters to Elizabeth —said Grippy. —I think it bothered Paterson, to see
his name.... It probably brought to mind his own Elizabeth. What are
the odds of that?

—My Elizabeth is your Elizabeth —I said quietly, revealing another truth to

Agrippa Hull. It probably wouldn't matter. I would be gone soon.
Grippy stopped shoveling and slowly raised his eyes to mine.
Elizabeth's uncle was a reverend in the town where I was raised. He took care of me.
explained. —Elizabeth also cared for me, in her own way.

So you knew General Paterson... before the war?

Yes. I knew him.
Did he/she know about you?

— I had never met him before — that wasn't exactly what he had.
questioned, and Grippy recognized the evasion.

The general doesn't like secrets, Bonny.

I nodded without meaning.

Have you been hiding secrets from the general, boy?

No. No, sir —not anymore. The general knew everything.
 Benedict Arnold was his friend. I warned him that the man was not good.
Too extravagant. Too obsessed with his own face and shape.
Spending money and living like a king while everyone around him was suffering.
with nothing. The general said it was not always like that. He defended him... and then Arnold did.
he sold him and everyone else. Paterson went home to bury his wife, and
Arnold saw his opportunity to deliver West Point to the British. You already know the
remaining.

I nodded. —Arnold escaped, but his plan was revealed.

And General Paterson had to come back here to clean up the mess, although
none of this was his fault. He blames himself for not having seen it. No one else.
he does it, but the general believes he let everyone down.

My God, I'm starting to think that I don't have a knack for character.

The words of the general from the previous night took on a new meaning, and
the abyss of my chest widened.
John Paterson is always cleaning up everyone's messes - Agrippa
He sighed. - And never, never asks for anything in return.

The general did not return to the Point either the next day or the following one, and I did not leave. No
I could. I didn't have an official discharge or a place to go. But, above all, I couldn't
to support retiring or yielding, although I assumed it was what the general expected.

I worked to the point of stupor every day, collapsing into bed every night and
I would get up to do it again, to the delight of Mrs. Allen and the rest of the
staff of the Casa Roja. I tried to make a plan, but mentally I kept retreating.
in the mere thought of leaving, I suspended any introspection or decision until I
General Paterson will return and make it official.
On the sixth day of his absence, I worked all day at the store, and to my
I saw Joe brushing Lenox outside the stable and Mrs. Allen.
preparing dinner for the general.
The general was asking for you, but the poor man must be starving,
 The beauty and charm of John Paterson had not escaped Mrs. Allen.
I loved him as much as I did, and I served him a bunch of potatoes and ham. He left for
the hallway, wanting to be the one to feed him. I followed closely behind,
carrying a tray with coffee and tea, numbed by apprehension.

—General Paterson —Mrs. Allen sang, knocking on the door. —I have your
dinner, sir.
"Where is Shurtliff?" he barked, and Mrs. Allen frowned. She was rarely
cutting with her. He was not despotic with anyone.
He is also here, General. He has his coffee.
Then pass.
He kept his back to us while we rushed forward and
he placed his dinner next to the stack of correspondence he had been in
working. He was wearing the same shirt sleeves and the same vest as the
the last time I had seen him, and his jaw showed the growth of several days.
I didn't dare to put the steaming pot or the little tray where they could.
to push and spill important papers, and I was left waiting for their
instructions.
You can go, Mrs. Allen. Thank you. But don't feed me like this. I receive the same
rations that men have. It is fair. There is enough here for two men, at the
less.
Well, maybe Bonny can eat with you. He hasn't had dinner yet either.
He lifted his chin and glared at the woman. 'What did you call the
Private Shurtliff?

—Bonny, why...? It's what Agrippa calls him. Actually, it's what he calls him.
todo el mundo. Es un niño bonito, lo es.
You may leave, Mrs. Allen. And I would prefer that we call my field assistant.
by his name. Please tell the staff that if I hear them refer to him again
In such a familiar way, I will deduct a day of rations.
The woman left, with her affection for General Paterson notably
mermaid. She didn't look at me, but hope quickened my heart. Why would she
I cared about what others would call me if I was going to lie down.
 I don't care about the silly name. They don't mean any harm.

Yes... well, most women like to be told that they are

beautiful ones —she replied.

The tray in my trembling hands started to rattle and the coffee

he spilled it over the edge, burning my thumb where I held it. I left it on his
table with a loud bang, with eyes full of tears, although she was not sure
yes, they were of pain or humiliation, and I took my sore thumb to my mouth.
The general moved quickly, pulling me towards the jug of cold water and the
sink that was on the sideboard. He held my thumb under the stream of water and
then he pressed my hand against the basin, keeping it submerged. It was already
I saw a red welt. I withdrew my hand and took a step back.
Okay, sir.
It is definitely not right, Ms. Samson.
Please don't call me that.

—It's what you are! —He shook his head, astonished, and brought his palms to his...
Eyes. —And I have spent these last few days trying to accept it.

—Yes. It is what I am —oh, to admit it out loud!—And I am... terribly

I regret putting you in this situation. I will make arrangements to leave. If
if only I could see that they discharge me, honorably, so that I am not
consider a deserter, I would appreciate it.
She lifted her clear blue eyes and looked at me then.

Is that what you want?

I shook my head. —No, sir. I want to stay. I want to be your assistant.

I want to see this to the end. Just like you.
She said nothing, but continued studying me, and encouraged, I insisted on my argument.

We don't have to talk about it again, sir. I have been a soldier for almost
A year. There is no reason why I can't continue. No one has to know.

—Pero lo sé —dijo. —Y va contra las reglas.

 —Yes. You know it —I admitted in a low voice. —But, haven't I... haven't I fulfilled my
I have completed all my duties, finished all my tasks, and been a good soldier, despite
from that fact?
You have done it. And I am in debt to you.
You don't owe me anything.

That's not true. And we both know it. But that doesn't mean I'm going to allow it.
that you stay.
Will you allow me to stay? My heart skipped a beat and I was left speechless.
breathing.
He closed his eyes as if he needed to gather strength. —Yes.

Should I go back to the queues?

—No. You will continue to be my assistant —he was so rigid and so piercing. He wanted
that the former general would come back, the man who trusted me and put me in
test, who spoke to me without carefully choosing his words and watching each
one of his acts. He even had his hands clasped as if he had
separated from a flame.
You must let me do everything you expected from me before - I insisted.

That's out of place,

So I will return to the barracks.
He looked at me open-mouthed, with a flushed face. —I am the commander, and you
You're on very thin ice, soldier.
I don't want to be pampered or protected. I'm not here for that.
I responded, furious. I couldn't help it. The tension of the last week had me
left without reservations, and beneath my gratitude lay the anger for having made me
suffer for so long, without knowing my destiny.

You are not in a position to demand anything,

I am not making demands, General. I am looking to do my job!
We walk in opposite directions, needing space from each other,
but we found ourselves again where we had started, no more at peace for
have gone around.
 You are exactly the same,
I didn't realize for such a long time.
I am exactly the same, I shouted. Exactly the same as last week and
the previous one. When I was allowed to fulfill my obligations. Nothing has
changed.
I wasn't referring to that. You are exactly the same as in your letters. So confident.
and persistent and... and annoying! —she clenched her hands. —But it no longer amuses me.

The idea that I had bothered him was like a slap in my face, and my
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. —Did I offend you?

He expelled a great gust of air. —You didn't do it. Not then. But now
I am very upset, and you will have to be careful and... and maintain your distance.
until this is over.
-Keep your distance? -I asked, puzzled. -How am I going to
do it if I am your assistant? — we were just a few meters apart even
now.
He ran his hands through his disheveled hair and collapsed into the chair.
desk. He hadn't touched his food and was visibly upset.
I left the room and came back with his shaving kit. He was still sitting there, dejected,
with her long legs stretched out in front of him. Without asking for his permission, I placed a cloth
around the shoulders, I prepared foam and gently applied it to the
cheeks.
This whole situation is indecent - he whispered.

—How is that, sir? You have treated me with impeccable decency.

I have treated you with incredible familiarity.

Familiarity is not indecency.

And you are being deliberately obtuse.
I was, and I allowed the silence to settle around us while I
I was scraping the bristles of one half of the face and then the other. I had almost finished.
and I had my eyes closed when I spoke again.
 Can't you... just get it out of your head? I asked. -No
I expect no special treatment. I have never done it.

-But you deserve it -he replied, tired. -It's your right.

—My right? —I scoffed, and he opened his tired eyes. —I have very few.
rights, sir, but treat me like a woman, in these circumstances,
it is not one of the ones I want. So, if it is my right, I renounce it, and I ask you to
I let myself do the work for which I was selected.

—Do you renounce it? —her mouth tightened.

I give up on that.
I finished shaving his face, dried his cheeks, and took off the cloth. When
I tried to fix his hair, he made a gesture and tied it himself. I poured him a little.
of coffee and he split his dinner in half, distributing it on the tray.
—Come, Samson —he said quietly, and I sat in the chair on the other side of his.
desk.
"Did you get ready to find me?" he/she asked.

—No. In your last letter, when you told me that Elizabeth had left, you said
that you had returned home. I didn't expect you to be here. It was a shock. But
you had never seen me, I had never seen you. There was nothing in my appearance that
you could recognize.
I can see why you used Robert, but why not Samson?
I didn't want anyone to think of Deborah Samson or to remember her.
no way.
He nodded slowly. Deliberately. - We will not talk about this again.
—he said.
Very well, sir.
If discovered, I will deny having any knowledge of it. You will face the
consequences that arise...
Of course. As I have always done, I interrupted.
I won't be able to protect you. You must understand that.
 No one has ever protected me, General. I have only had myself.

He grimaced in pain and his shoulders dropped slightly. — It's a

tragedy, Miss Samson.
Please, call me Rob. That’s what my brothers used to call me. And no. It’s not a
tragedy. It is a victory. One that I am proud of.
He remained silent and we ate in a pleasant silence.
-What happened to Morris? -I asked in a low voice.
He is here.

My heart skipped a beat. —And Maggie and Amos?

Do you know their names?

Yes sir. Maggie made the ointment that healed your wound and prevented my leg
superb.

—Hmm. Bueno, entonces es bueno que ella estará en el hospital en la casa de

Robinson. The boy too. Morris has experience in forging and will work there. No
They have separated. As I said, we have a great need for good men.
All good men. And good... women.
I was about to cry, overwhelmed by the kindness of the general and the
mercy of God, but I got distracted by the food, swallowing my emotion with
pieces of ham and potatoes and swallowing my gratitude with a coffee I didn't taste.

What did you say: 'It's not about the man who has it all and wants more
"for what we fought?" —inquired the general.
'But the man who has nothing' —I finished, struggling against a new
wave. —And it was you who said it. I just reminded you of your words.
He sighed heavily, but finished his meal without saying more.
Will I still be your assistant and nothing will change? I clarified, after having
cleaned my entire plate and caged every stray emotion.
He seemed to resolve something inside himself and nodded once, with sober eyes.
Nothing will change.
 He said that nothing would change, but it did. The comfort that we had.
enjoyed each other, felt resentful. The conversation was forced and the general
he seemed to have trouble with my name. He called me "private soldier" more than
nothing, and "Shurtliff" when it was absolutely necessary, but above all I avoided
address me or look at me. And one day it slipped out and he called me Samson again. No
Deborah, luckily, otherwise Samson. Agrippa heard it and pounced.

—Samson, huh? Where did that come from? —he squawked. —I need to hear
this story.
The general became rigid and I was left frozen.
Shurtliff kept me in the saddle for six hours - he shrank.
shoulders. —He is stronger than he seems. A true Samson in disguise.
It's nothing more than a nickname.

—Ah. The mighty Samson —said Grippy, smiling. He looked at me, thoughtfully. —
I like it.
I flexed my arms like the boxers who fought in the barracks for
coins and the entertainment of the soldiers, and Grippy burst out laughing, but the
the manager dismissed both of us without a smile.
He was also reluctant to give me all the functions I had before. In the
In the first months as his assistant, I had carried messages on horseback to Newburgh.
and Stony Point. He had crossed King's Bridge and delivered communications to officials who
they spread across the highlands alone, but that ceased the moment that
discovered my identity.
It's not safe,
But... sir. The other assistants are starting to notice. And to
complain. You have sent Grippy to King's Ferry three times with communications.
Instead of me.
You are still recovering. You are still limping. And who is complaining? You run.
in circles around everyone else. This very morning you shaved all
the faces of the house, you have cleaned all the boots and you have tidied up all the agents
and assistants of this residence. Who is complaining? —he insisted again, indignant.
 I bit my lip, suddenly so devastated that tears pricked at me.
the eyes. It was bleeding again. My flow had been minimal, a spotting that required
little attention or concern since the month after I enlisted. I had
taken as the mercy of a loving God, but knew that probably
it was more the result of the physical imposition of being a soldier. Now, after a few months
As the general's aide, with a warm bed and a full belly at least once.
Once a day, my menstruation had returned regularly, putting me in my place.
The last time Agrippa was sent in your place, you cut enough firewood.
to supply the ovens and the chimney of all the rooms, without stopping
serve me, three high-ranking officers, and a visiting general at a dinner
formal, just you —added the general.
I just had to be presentable, set the food on the table, and wait,
Sir. The Allens did all the preparation and the cleaning.
My point is, Samson, that you do much more than what is your responsibility. No
I don't think Agrippa or Colonel Kosciuszko care.
I care, General.
She lifted her head and squinted. 'Do you mind?' she asked in a voice
irritated.
Yes, sir - my heart was racing. I did not like confrontation.
but I liked the wall between us even less.

Close the door, Samson —he ordered.

I turned on my heels, closed the door, and returned to his table. He watched me,
gloomy.
Sit down.
I sat in the chair in front of his desk, with my back straight and my hands on
the lap.
—I said we wouldn't talk about this again —he started, but I interrupted him.

—You also said that nothing would change.

Well, excuse me, ma'am, if I'm struggling to keep your

identities. Forgive me for doing everything possible to handle a situation
impossible.
 You can't even look at me. You barely talk to me. And it's not impossible!

I don't speak to you or about you because I fear slipping and referring to you as she.
I can't, for my life, refer to you as Robert or Robbie or Shurtliff or damn...
Bonny - spat the name. - Like everyone does. I don't know how I didn't realize.
count from the beginning. You are taller than most women. You are long and
slim, and you wear a uniform. But that's it. You don’t look like a man. Not to me.
Not anymore.

You cannot call me Samson.

"Grippy accepted my explanation," he replied, defensively.
Everyone who hears you will think you are mocking me. They will think it is in
joke... like calling a fat person Slim or a big guy Tiny.

He shook his head. — That's it. It's perfectly correct. Your strength is
amazing.
The compliment left me stunned and for a moment I was just staring at him. He
he/she returned the gaze.

You're angry... and cold, I said softly. And I miss you.

He let out a breath with an audible sigh. —I miss the boy who
I thought you were, and I have no idea what to do with the woman you are.

I am still Shurtliff.
No, you are Deborah Samson, and I have to be careful with her.

—Her? —I gasped. —She is talking about me, General. She needs to be careful.
with me? Don't you trust me?
It's not about trust - he had lowered his voice so that
the sound of distant weapons and problems that echo among us
They were approaching. —It's as if the bandages had fallen from my eyes. I no longer see a
soldier. I only see you —he accused, raising his hands.
I glared at him, but I didn't get a response. After all, he was a
woman.
She shook her head. — Except when you look at me like that. Then I remember the
fearsome gaze of Shurtliff.
 —It was never a fearsome look. It is mine.

Now you are doing it too, separating the woman from the child. It is not
so easy to keep them clear.
I have served with all my heart. And I will continue to do so if you allow me.

I am sure it is true - his voice had changed again. From a

explosion to a roar to a white flag of surrender. I held back the
breathing. He still didn't know what he was yielding to.

-I haven't known a moment of peace since I realized that you are not
Robert Shurtliff confessed.
But I do, I pleaded.

— Deborah — she warned, and the sound of my name on her lips returned to
to shock me.
Please, don't take it away from me. Please, let me be Shurtliff until I'm done.
the war.

—And if you die here? You could have easily died in Tarrytown. Or in
Yorktown. Or in Eastchester, damn it. What if you die like a soldier, like
Robert Shurtliff? So what? Deborah Samson deserves more.
But don't you see? This is more.

He didn't understand it and stared at me, perplexed.

I do it for her. For me —I hit my chest. —And if I die —I shrugged.

shoulders. —Then I will die like a soldier, which is something that Deborah Samson
he was not allowed to be.

He raised his eyebrows, astonished. —We don't keep women out of war.
because they are less than us.

—Not?—I mocked.
No, replied the general. Men do not take their treasure to the field of
battle. They protect him —he enunciated each word.

I'm not a treasure. So I don't need protection - we had already been through
this before.
 But you are. Elizabeth cherished you. I cherish you.
I bowed my head, humbled by his sincere confession. For a moment, I did not
we talk.

There are so few things that any of us gets to see —I begged. —No
only women. I already know that. I'm not so foolish as to think that men
they are not tied in different ways. I got ready because I didn't dare to go up
to a boat. I got ready because I couldn't go to the west alone. I had no means to cross.
the sea or to go out into the world. The underwear and the tied breasts are not enough. A
the person also needs money. The war was at my doorstep and I was the only one
escape within my reach.
His sigh was heavy and his shoulders slumped.
Are you going to tell it? I asked.

—¿A quién? ¿A quién se lo diría? Yo soy el comandante por el momento.

I could go to New Windsor to see General Washington and tell him that my assistant
Campo is a master of disguise. After the debacle with Benedict Arnold here.
in Point, right before my eyes, I could start to think that I am the traitor. And
he will think you are a spy.
You know that I'm not.
I don't know anything about that,

Really? You can't be serious, right, General?

You have no idea of the depravity and cruelty of men.
Especially the men who benefit from war.
I swear on my life and my sacred honor that I am not a spy,
using the language of the declaration purposefully. —I am a patriot to the
spine, and I will fight by your side and under your command until this war is over.
You will never have reasons to distrust me or to question my loyalty. I swear.
for my affection and friendship to Elizabeth.

I don't want you to pledge your life to me or fight by my side.

I want you to stay alive. I want you to do what I say so that I am not
constantly worried about your well-being. And if that means sending Agrippa to
King's Ferry or wherever I think convenient, instead of to you - he pointed at me with a
finger to the face-, it won't matter—he sat back down in his chair and closed his book of
accounting of a push. I had my jaw clenched and my eyes hot, and I
I bowed my head, contrite.

—Agreed, General.
Will you do what I say?
Yes, sir.
And you won't question or interfere with my orders?
I will not question or interfere with your orders - I promised.

He exhaled with a gust. —May God help us both.

I fully intended to keep my word, but some promises are
impossible to fulfill.
 Chapter 20

Mild and Transitory Causes

The month I arrived at West Point after my enlistment, sixteen soldiers

accused of desertion and crimes against the local citizenry were taken out to
open field, where gallows and whipping posts were erected not far from the
garrison prison.
One by one, twelve of the men were stripped to the waist, bound to
a post there, with the drums sounding, subjected to his punishment. Most of them
he bore it well, barely flinching as the whip opened bloody stripes on
their bare backs, while their companions cheered them on.
Two men, convicted of planning a riot, were taken to the gallows.
to be hanged, but at the last moment, Agrippa Hull stepped forward and
he presented a pardon for General Paterson. The spectators applauded, and the two
men were brought down, barely able to stand, with tears
falling down their cheeks in light of the mercy that had been granted to them.

Two other men took their place, with ropes around their necks and their sins.
read so that everyone could hear. A man had killed a local farmer with
a gallows, raped his wife and set his house on fire. The other had stayed
quiet while he did it, eating the farmer's food and leaving with
your boots. They were not forgiven. The impact of the platform falling under their feet
it provoked a cry of joy and a moan of terror from the spectators.
Staying safe and alive while others died was his own, albeit brief,
transcendence.
I had observed it with horror, not because it seemed unfair to me - it didn't have
reasons to believe that the men were not guilty of the charges, but because
would have happened. Because those things were even necessary. My eyes opened,
once again, to my own vulnerability. Being whipped would result in the
discovery of my sex. But that was only a small part of my awakening.
I had been soaked in revolution, I had been indoctrinated with the language of the
freedom and I had been baptized with a clear purpose. I knew, even to the plant of
los pies y lo más profundo de mi espíritu, que la lucha era justa y la causa grande.
I was not lacking my own motivations, my own personal reasons, to
to participate in the conflict, but she was a believer.

Not all soldiers were.

Algunos eran animales.
Maybe the war made them that way, but I suspected that the war only revealed their
hooves and snouts.
A barely contained chaos simmered beneath the order of the garrison.
barracks and the officers' class housed all kinds of people, although some
they disguised it better than others. Murderers, thieves, liars, and cheaters
they mixed with the brave, the righteous, the faithful, and the truthful. All had been
thrown into the boiling pot that constituted the continental army, and the result
it was a bubbling stew that simmered slowly.
In Yorktown, I had seen the British soldiers surrender and be led to
prison ships, and I had resolved then that I would take my own life before being
captured by the enemy. Better to die than to be captured.
The crimes of the DeLancey Brigade had only reinforced my conviction.
Pero los británicos y DeLancey eran una cosa. Temer a tus compañeros, a los
The men you served with were different. The experience with the rumors of
Dropout in my exploration group had shaken me for several reasons. In
First, I did not want to leave. Second, I did not want to create conflicts between
my colleagues, and third, and most importantly, any punishment probably
I would have finished my presentation, and I would have preferred to die.

General Paterson had avoided a mutiny at the Point with an iron fist, but
merciful heart. His efforts to provide and advocate for the troops did not
they had gone unnoticed, but the successful uprisings were still
cited by the discontented.
In the winter of 80-81, some of the troops had left their
camps in an orderly and organized manner, and descended upon Philadelphia
with a clear list of conditions. They were neither spies nor traitors, nor did they consider themselves
deserters. They simply wanted to be heard. Most of them had
listed after the Battle of Saratoga and had committed to "three years"
or the war,” but the war did not seem to be close to its end and they wanted to be freed,
stating that three years were more than sufficient. His conditions were met.
discreetly and most of the men were discharged and dispersed. Only
after the negotiations, the lists of enrollees and the great
Most of the released men had not even completed their three years.
Suddenly, riots were occurring everywhere, but with more consequences.
disastrous. The same spirit that encouraged heroism and emboldened the
men could become a mob when allowed to fester. A
an official, who was trying to subjugate his men, was killed by a soldier who
he had been pardoned for leading a similar uprising just a few months earlier.
That riot was not handled in the same way as the first one. The rioters
they were surrounded and disarmed, and the leaders were executed by firing squad. After that, the
rebellions decreased.
But there were always whispers. Word had spread through the lands.
it was reported that the new recruits had been promised land and rewards
that doubled those received by the previous enlistees, and the discontent
among men it was great.
Maybe it was the spring fever, maybe the feeling that everything would end.
soon anyway, but General Paterson was convinced that the
announcement of a grand celebration in Point, in honor of the birth of the dolphin of
France would not help.
We had spent the previous day at Robinson's house, on the eastern shore of
river, about three kilometers south of Point, where General Robert Howe had his
headquarters. Dr. Thatcher and several other medical officers had established
a hospital in the opposite wing, and the estate was a frequent gathering place for
trace larger-scale military operations.
The house belonged to a wealthy loyalist named Beverley Robinson, who arrived
to become a colonel in the British army. When he fled to New York in '77 after
refusing to swear allegiance to the colonial cause, his house and lands were confiscated
by the Americans. It was rumored that Washington and he had been friends and
that both were deeply hurt by the schism created by their loyalties
opposing. Each one thought that the other was terribly wrong.
Robinson's house was a large dwelling located in a clearing at the foot of the
Sugarloaf hill. Despite being surrounded by steep elevations and a
terreno inhóspito, había prosperado un huerto, y la finca era un pueblo en sí
the same, with several dependencies that included a blacksmith shop and a summer kitchen
and acres of land for hunting and agriculture away from the rocky cliff.
I had accompanied General Paterson to meetings at home twice.
Robinson, but never in such illustrious company. Forty officers, among them the
General Washington and the Prussian Baron Von Steuben, chief of staff of
Washington, who had traveled on horseback the fifteen kilometers from New
Windsor that morning, they had gathered in the huge central dining room that
it constituted the entrance to the house.

Both Washington and Paterson were tall and lanky, with shoulders
broad shoulders, long limbs, and an unwavering military posture. They also had the
same behavior and presence, although my general - I surprised myself
same-, although Paterson was younger and more handsome. General Washington
he always wore a powdered wig. I asked Agrippa if he had hair -Grippy
he always seemed to know about those things - and he told me he had long hair
white that her camera assistant brushed and braided every day, but that he
it looked thin on top and the wig helped to disguise it. With a wig or without
She was radiant in her blue and gold uniform. I did my best.
so as not to be left speechless or let out a giggle like the woman I was, and I
I felt satisfied to limit myself to standing against the wall and observing,
together with the other assistants, the start of the meeting.

We owe everything to the French military," said General Washington.

each word deliberate and firm. Grippy also stated that the teeth of
Washington was annoyed, and he spoke like this to keep the dentures in place.
A bad set of teeth could also explain why he was reluctant to smile, but
I thought it was more likely to be about seriousness than vanity.
We were not able to thank them or honor them properly after
Yorktown continued. But without them, we wouldn't be here.
No one could dispute it, and all the heads nodded in chorus.
We must also honor this army. The anniversary of our
Independence Day is approaching quickly and, for the first time since
that we embark on this effort, I have no doubt that this new
the nation will survive and, in fact, will prosper. It is worth celebrating. This is
our opportunity to honor our friends and commemorate new life.
from our country and that of the French monarch.
 General Paterson had a look of horror and immediately expressed
its reserves - specifically, the state of food warehouses and troops without
pay-, but Washington did not flinch nor did his arrogance diminish. —I put on the
Command, Paterson, exactly for the reasons you cite. You are in charge and everyone
We will support you. But we will have this celebration, and it will be in two weeks.

A party? murmured General Paterson while shaving him.

face the next morning. —The men have not been paid, the supplies are
dangerously low, morale is even lower, and I'm going to throw a party for
the youngest son of King Louis?
It was so uncharacteristic of the general to complain - especially about the commander in...
boss - I limited myself to listening, understanding, while I shaved his beard.

Kosciuszko has been planning an open pavilion in the plain for some time.
Commander Villefranche, the French engineer, will arrive tomorrow morning to
help him. I hope they don't kill each other. They must finish it in ten days.
We are taking all the wood and arches from the surroundings, which will lower the cost.
the costs, but it will take a thousand men working nonstop to achieve it —
he sighed wearily. — But at least the men will be busy. It's less
likely to rebel if they are occupied.
I will help you,

He smiled satisfied. —I know you will. You are my secret weapon. Who better than
a woman who has worn a disguise for more than a year to become a
garnish in a large hall?
Spring had made the highlands bloom and chased away the gray of a
dreary winter, but the garrison had never hosted a party like this, and the
The work to prepare everything would be huge. We made lists and assigned tasks.
Between the regiments, the general and I, often the two of us alone because it couldn't be.
no one else, we travel up and down through the highlands, from New
Windsor to Peekskill Hollow, trading, twisting arms and gathering
resources.
The banquet would be limited to the officers, both French and American, and to
his wives, but that did not mean that the support staff did not need
to eat. The barrels of wine and rum that we had recovered from our incursion
in the warehouse they had already run out, and it was almost impossible to get food for
a banquet, but the general got to work.
 Long tables were built, lanterns were hung, and boxes were acquired.
French and American flags to a candle maker in Philadelphia. There were
started producing tricolor flags in large quantities after the
dazzling French parade through its streets before Yorktown, and it was
delighted to sell them wholesale.
A popular portraitist who had portrayed everyone, from Washington
until Thomas Paine, he had also added Lafayette and Admiral De Grasse to
his collection. He had agreed to set up an exhibition near the pavilion, always
that the time will hold out, in exchange for future tasks. A band was formed.
military between the officers and the rank-and-file soldiers, and daily rehearsals began,
with surprising results.
The preparations continued from dawn to dusk, and the construction of the pavilion
was advancing at full speed. Everything was being built with wood from the
wooded hills and the valleys that surround the point. The walls of the sides more
long ones were formed by trunks spaced like columns, while the
shorter sides remained open. The roof was entirely made of arches,
interwoven in a tight canopy. When it was finished, it would have
six hundred feet long and thirty feet wide, and Commander Villefranche and the
Colonel Kosciuszko had not yet resorted to violence, which was a good thing.
omen for the realization of the project.
There were only a few days left until the day of the celebration when Captain Webb
presented at the Red House, requesting an audience with the general, saying that he could not
wait.
Mr. Allen had me taken to the general's office, and when I stood up to
leave them alone, as was customary every time the general conferred with his
officials, Captain Webb asked me to stay.
This also concerns you, soldier Shurtliff. I was hoping to speak with
both.
Captain Webb was worried and uneasy, and the general made me a
gesture for him to return to my seat, although his eyes caught mine during
A startled moment before asking: —What's happening, Webb?
One of the men in my company, a private Laurence Barton, has
come to talk to me about a revolt among some of the men of the line
from Massachusetts, as well as from the Connecticut line, at the camp of
Nelson. Seems to believe that there could be up to two hundred men who
they will participate.
Do you know soldier Barton? the general asked me. His relief at seeing that the
the matter had nothing to do with my disguise, it was evident, but I felt a knot in
the stomach.
Yes, sir. We share the same company, the same barracks, and
he was in two of the exploration missions in which I volunteered.
Soldier Barton claims that, on one of those occasions, the men of
The group spoke seriously about desertion. He said that you refused to participate and
he convinced the others to return to the garrison.

—Según recuerdo, el soldado Barton tampoco estaba a favor de la deserción.

He was not vocal, but when asked, it was his disinterest that leaned the
balance.
"What were the names of the other men in the group?" asked the
General Paterson, with a somber face.
I only knew Oliver Johnson, Laurence Barton, and Davis Dornan. The others
from the group were from another company. I think one was named Jones. Another was Sharpe,
And there was a man they called Chuck, but the raid was unsuccessful, I
I kept to the sidelines as I usually do, and I haven't participated in an incursion again.
since then.
Tell us what happened, word for word, as best as you can.
remember it —the general insisted.
You should have come to me, Shurtliff,
I finished my story. —Right after what happened. You should have told me.
I should have done it, sir - I didn't offer any excuses. The fear of the
revenge was not a good reason not to do the right thing. But the complaints did not
it was insubordination. Every man, even General Paterson, had his
low moments.
If Shurtliff had come to you, what would you have done? asked the
General to Captain Webb.
I would have had them all whipped.
And Shurtliff?
 Captain Webb frowned.
--Would you have had Shurtliff whipped? --the general pressed.

No, sir.

—Entonces todos los hombres de la compañía habrían sabido que fue Shurtliff
who reported them.
That's true, sir, Captain Webb conceded. -But now we have a
much bigger problem in our hands.
Was Davis Dornan the instigator that night? asked General Paterson,
turning towards me.
Yes, sir. He started the conversation and kept it going. He was also the one who
he was more worried that I would report him.

That's what Barton said, Captain Webb said, nodding. And he says that
Dornan is one of the leaders of this new action. He believes they will use the
celebration as distraction. When everyone disperses the next day,
they also plan to leave.
How do you think we should handle it, Webb? asked the general.
He was upset, although I couldn't determine whether it was disappointment in me or
frustration for having shouldered another crisis.
I think I should attract him, General. Tell him he knows what is happening.
planning. Let's see if he gives us the names of the others, and to lock him and the others up.
until this entire evening is over. Then a hearing can be granted.
and sentence him accordingly.
Do the men in your company know that Shurtliff is now my assistant?
field?
Yes, sir. I suppose so. There are no secrets in the barracks.
The general's mouth tightened, though his eyes were a flat and unhappy blue.
Have you gone to see Colonel Jackson with this?

Yes, sir. He told me to come to you, as others will need to be informed.

regiments.
 The general stood up abruptly and put the hat on his head.
Come with me, captain.
When I was about to follow him, he shot me a warning glance.
Stay here, Shurtliff.

When he returned hours later, he was grumpy and sore from the chair.
to put on, with the uniform stained with sweat and short answers. I brought him water.
so that he could take a shower and I let him do it, I left his dinner on the side table of his
I went to the box and retired to my room until I decided whether I wanted to scold myself or
to tell me what had happened.
The water is yours, Samson,
first.
I thanked him and entrenched myself in the space, too anxious for the
events of the day to enjoy the bath. I quickly washed my head
to my feet and I put my clothes back on, although my wet hair was dripping down.
neck and it made me long for a nightgown and forgetfulness.

The general was already in his bed, and a single candle flickered on his nightstand.
night. He had his hands crossed behind his head, his eyes fixed on the beams
exposed and the lower lip between the teeth. I recognized her gaze. She was
thoughtful and worried, and he was waiting for me.

We inform every colonel and every captain here and on the other side of the road,
in Nelson, of the possible uprising. Each company will be gathered, each man
interrogated.

—And Dornan?
He/She has gone.

My heart jumped to my throat. —What?

He must have suspected that he had been discovered. He was not at his post.
not in the barracks. Two dozen men spent an hour combing the
garnish in her search instead of working in the pavilion —she sighed. —But it has
he deserted. All the regiments have been informed of his situation.
I became your assistant just two days after that expedition of
exploration. It was a response to the prayer, in many ways. Should it
Have you told Captain Webb?
He sat on the bed, with a serious look. —No. But you should have told me that.
said.

I sighed, releasing the breath I had been holding all day. —A

Sometimes it is so difficult to know what is right.

I know. And a man -or a woman- who can keep a confidence and
Controlling your tongue is always worthy of praise. But do not hold back with me.

He lowered his head. - Are you sure you want that, General?
He frowned, distressed, but the matter was settled.

—What have you done this afternoon? —he asked. —Dare I ask?
I reviewed the menu for the banquet with Mrs. Allen and the staff at the
dining room. Everything necessary for the feast is organized and accounted for, even
the geese and the chickens and the poor pigs, who are so fat that they can barely
They can move. The butcher has also received instructions. I mopped the floor.
from the dining room and dusted the chandeliers. Agrippa held the ladder.
Did you know that he/she is afraid of heights?

—Yes. I knew it —he had started to smile.

I decided to wash the entrance windows as well. And dust the
taller shelves of the library.
I have seen that they have started hanging the flags on the wall of the
side dish.
—Yes. I thought that... as long as I had the ladder outside —I started. —Agrippa and
we start from the northernmost point.
Oh my God, Samson —he laughed under his breath, covering his face and letting himself
fall again against the pillows. —Go to bed, woman.
 I retired to my room with a small smile on my lips, but a
A moment later, wearing the nightgown and with my hair up, I called him.

—Do you want me to read to you for a while? —I asked her. —I need to calm my mind.

He sighed, but the sound was one of release and even satisfaction.
Yes. I would really like that.

The French and American flags fluttered in the breeze and the regiments
of all the brigades of the continental army were lined up on the hills on both
sides of the river, creating the illusion of a sea of blue wildflowers in the middle of the
green. The artillery had been brought to the edge of the plain that faced the water, and the
The pavilion was full. General Paterson had conveyed to the colonel.
Kosciuszko suggested to me that the old and broken weapons in the armory - there had been
thousands of them will be used as decoration and will be tied to the pillars with strings.
place of trying to make the garnish what it was not -namely, an elegant room-,
we had emphasized what it was. A stronghold, a conquest, an achievement
fierce sculpted from nothing. And the result was magnificent.
Everything was in order. Everything that could be done had been done, and in the
On the morning of May 31, the dignitaries began to arrive.
The Red House was bursting at the seams; generals and their wives, aides and
servants filled all the rooms. Robinson's house was the same, at
just like all the intermediate structures. Large white tents were erected.
to accommodate the overwhelmed, but most would only stay one night.
Your assistant has a good figure, Paterson. So slender and straight.
Elegant. The entire decoration is in good shape - said General Henry Knox,
giving John a pat on the shoulders. They were the same height, but
Knox was much bulkier, although his portrait in our exhibition made him...
to look like a ball of dough instead of an ox, which was much more accurate.
He was young, probably the same age as General Paterson, and he was one of
my heroes. Her father, a ship captain, had died, leaving his wife and
his ten children without support, and Henry dropped out of school to support his
family. He was a clerk in a bookstore in Boston and ended up opening one himself.
same, despite being a self-taught man. Elizabeth had told me about her
story in one of his letters.
Contrary to his size and his farmer's face, Henry Knox had a
an agile mind and an indefatigable spirit, and in the early days of the war there had been
managed to transport fifty cannons on sleds from Fort Ticonderoga
to Boston, just in time for the Battle of Dorchester Heights, which put an end to the
He seized and saved the situation.

His wife, Lucy, was everything that Henry was. She had been repudiated.
for her wealthy loyalist family when she married Henry - they had met
in his bookstore - and had stayed by his side throughout the war, moving from
from one camp to another. She may have admired her more than Henry himself.

She was wearing a dusty blue dress and her hair was a mass of curls on a
chubby cherub face, but Lucy Knox was more intimidating than she seemed.
As soon as he fixed his eyes on me, I thought I was lost.
--What was your name, young man? --asked Mrs. Knox, with a sharp gaze.

—Robert Shurtliff, ma'am —I bowed politely. —Aide-de-camp

from General Paterson.
I have heard that there is an exhibition with a painting by my husband. I would like to
Come on. Will you accompany me?

The general responded to my fleeting and terrified glance by raising an eyebrow,

but I offered my arm to the woman. Henry and General Paterson were following us.
searching, already immersed in a deep conversation about the artillery arranged in the
plain.
Talk to me about yourself, Mr. Shurtliff, the woman insisted, and it was not a question.
Just a casual inquiry. I decided to tell him only the truth.
I was in the light infantry, Colonel Jackson's regiment, and I passed to
to be the assistant of General Paterson when Lieutenant Cole fell ill.
Aren't you an officer?
No, ma'am.
Samson is the best assistant I have ever had. Intelligent, incredibly
capable and often underestimated — General Paterson intervened, saving me.
 "Samson?" asked Henry Knox, and I struggled against the impulse to loosen my
scarf.
I thought your name was Shurtliff, said Mrs. Knox, tilting her head.
inquisitive air.
It's a nickname, ma'am. The general says that I am... more powerful than what
I seem.

—Ahh. I like that —Lucy Knox smiled. —I have also underestimated myself.
tripe.
Here we are, thundered Henry Knox, stopping in front of the portrait that
he carried his stocky image. He turned his head from side to side and even looked at himself
abdomen covered by the vest before passing to the others, with the general
Paterson by his side. Some of them praised, commenting on their own
knowledge of the topic of each frame. A soldier assigned to the kitchen staff
he approached with a tray and glasses of wine. Henry Knox poured himself a glass and offered one to his
wife, who took the cup while holding my arm tightly.
I started to sweat, my need to lock the door was so great.
Do you like portraits, Shurtliff? asked Henry Knox kindly. No.
I could imagine why he wanted my opinion, but both he and General Paterson
and Mrs. Knox looked at me for an answer.
-No, sir - it wasn't a diplomatic response, but rather speaking sincerely.
made me feel less of an impostor.
General Knox should not have expected my frankness, because he choked on it.
wine and left it on a tray that was passing by.

"Why not?" she gasped.

I don't understand the artist's desire to add softness where there is none.
explained.
General Paterson listened with an inscrutable expression.
Please, continue,
A traveling artist came to our village before the war and placed his
canvases in the meadow for people to see. I didn't like theirs either.
portraits. Not because he wasn't skilled. He was — I paused, getting to the point.
 All the portraits had a certain style, and all the subjects had the
same appearance: big and expressive eyes, pale skin, small lips, cheeks
rounded and soft chins. It seems to be fashionable to make everyone
men and women appear as cherubs, but I prefer to immortalize the
people as they are and not as fashion dictates. The faces I knew - the faces
I know are lean and sharp, the varied features and the tanned skin. That for me
seems much more attractive.
But that is not desirable, said Mrs. Knox, although her eyes sparkled.
cheerfully.
"No?" I asked.
No. Being plump suggests wealth and status.
Yes, I know. But we are Americans. I would prefer the artist to emphasize the
strength and character.

She smiled, and General Knox nodded. —Well said, boy.

The general merely inclined his cup.
I leaned over once, trying to leave while I was well regarded.
You must save me a dance, Mr. Shurtliff. I insist. I would like to hear more.
your opinions —Lucy Knox said, finally letting go of my arm.
I leaned back again, without promising anything, and excused myself, abandoning the
exhibition with measured steps and a racing heart. I would make sure not to return.
to run into Mrs. Knox.
 Chapter 21

Willing to suffer

Dinner was served to the officers of the regiment and their ladies, the
barrels, the wine flowed, the music played and the world transformed. Thirteen toasts,
each of them interrupted by the firing of thirteen cannons, were followed
for a military presentation from both banks of the river; the mere number of
men in uniform and formation moved the soul.
When the dance began, General Washington accompanied Mrs. Knox.
to the pavilion and, with another twenty couples, including his wife and Henry Knox, he directed
varios bailes, cambiando de pareja en cada uno de ellos. Yo me mantuve al acecho
at the opposite end of the pavilion throughout the evening. General Paterson did not
she neither needed nor wanted me to follow her steps, and I was trying to avoid the lady
Knox, although the general does not.

He danced with a dozen ladies, some of whom I could name, others

No. I had never attended a dance, although I knew the steps to most of them.
the dances. She had been the only couple of ten children of Thomas and even had
I have taught my students some of the reels as fun during recess, although
in that case, I had always taken on the role of a knight. I was convinced of
that I could even keep up with Mrs. Knox if I was cornered, but no
had no desire to draw attention.
The general did not seem to enjoy dancing as much as the commander in chief did.
but he executed the steps well and I enjoyed watching him. I was proud of his
aspect, even though it shouldn't. He was just his assistant. But his uniform was stiff and
brilliant, his boots shone and his hair, unpowdered, was expertly styled
backwards, over her beautiful forehead.
If I hadn't been following Mrs. Knox and congratulating myself for how well I...
the general was there and how well the event had developed, it could have been more
aware of the people around me. When someone said my name, I turned.
distracted, and I found myself face to face with a piece of my past.
 "Rob?" the soldier said again, his eyes wide open and his voice low. Neither
Shurtliff, neither Bonny, nor Robbie, but Rob.

I stood looking, trapped and cornered, not knowing who I was looking at. No
I knew this man.
—Rob. Is that you? —he insisted. I started shaking my head and backing away, although
my heart recognized who I was.
He was neither taller nor wider, but his face was marked with hollows and his hair
Ralo. A thick scar creased his left cheek and he had lost some
teeth, but the smile that curved her lips was the same.
—Phineas? —I said. I wouldn't have been able to deny it at that moment, even though I...
they could have put a gun to the forehead. It would have required skills of
performance she did not possess. She was too happy to see him.
She came closer to hug me, but I raised my hand to her chest, warning her that
he wouldn't do it. Instead, he placed his hand over mine and squeezed it with a
fast and strong intensity before releasing me.
Mom wrote to me and told me that you had left. No one knows where you are.
But they suspected something like that after you tried it the first time. Your mother.
He appeared, asking questions about you. He said that your father saw you in New Bedford.
although at that moment I wasn't sure it was you.
I shuddered. I had been so foolish that day. —More than a year has passed. I have
I was a soldier for over a year.
He shook his head, with astonishment lighting up his changed face.
I've been looking for you. Otherwise, I would have passed by. You're a handsome boy.

Have you been looking for me? I didn't like how that sounded. The heart
It had not stopped pounding and I had a lump in my throat under the handkerchief.

He shrugged. - I was just wondering if you really went and

you had done. A part of me knew that you had done it. I knew you could. So
that I have been looking for.

"Are you not going to say it?" I said, sounding as if I were ten years old again, trapped.
in my magic underwear. I was aware of the people around us, of the
movement, the eyes and the ears. He knew he shouldn't act as if he had something
what to hide, but my fear had to be evident. He took a step back, drawing me in
more into the shadows.
"I won't say it, Rob," she said gently. "I've never betrayed you before," she smiled.
giving me another perspective of the boy who had always made me strive a little.
more, that saw me as a worthy adversary.
--No --I murmured. --You never did.
For a moment we limited ourselves to looking at each other, old memories clashing with
a new and impossible reality. It was dizzying, and we both looked away.
reorienting ourselves.
Where have you been, Phin?
Here. There. Everywhere. Rhode Island lately. I am in the
Colonel Putnam's regiment. We are in Nelson, across the river. I had to
to be here for the great demonstration. My company did a demonstration in the
field. My buddies are somewhere getting drunk, but I thought about
take a look.
I'm very glad you did it, I whispered.
He moved, squared his shoulders, and moved again, as if he didn't know what
to say or how to act. Too much time had passed and we were both
too changed.

—They throw a party for the damned dolphin of France when men do not
They haven't been paid all year. What are we celebrating?—he whispered softly.

I wasn't sure what I should say or if I was expecting a response, but

the general and I had worked too hard on the event to not
to feel at least a little defensive.

—Life? Friendship? —I suggested softly.

He laughed without grace. —Well, that's something, I suppose.

We owe a lot to France, I repeated like a parrot.

They owe a lot to the men who look like me,
of scars. —And even to those who look like you —she sighed and turned around.
 The general expressed the same concern for the men, I conceded.
But Washington thought it would be good for morale.
"The general?" asked Phin, frowning.

Dude, I wasn't sure what I should disclose. —General Paterson. I am your...

field assistant.
Old Phin would have given me a pat on the back or would have
grumpy saying he could do it better. This Phineas didn't do any of
the two things, although the hint of a mocking smile reappeared. —Do you know it?

—No. Of course not —I lied. If I fell, I wouldn’t take John Paterson with me.
with me.

—Field assistant in a year. No rank. How did you manage that?

Just pure dumb luck. And hard work too, I suppose.
He nodded slowly, as if he could imagine it. -You haven't
stop running. You keep running until you win, right, Deborah Samson?
My name was just a whisper on his lips, but I shuddered, fearing
that someone heard it. —Yes. That's what I do. That's what we both do,
Phineas Thomas.
I haven't finished running, he said. I'm tired.

My heart twisted at his sad confession. — You have served so much.

time.
I am a lieutenant of the Fifth.

—A lieutenant! Well done, Lieutenant Thomas.

It only means that everyone else has given up... or died. Many of
mis hermanos se han ido, y todos eran mejores hombres que yo. Los mejores
men do not survive as long, although I don't know if, at this point, I can count myself
among the living.
I didn't know how to respond to that and I looked for something to say, something hopeful.
Something good.

—Benjamin and Jacob... they arrived home, didn't they? —I asked.

 They did it, he nodded. Jake married Margaret.
—And Jeremíah? What do you know about him?

He stiffened and looked me in the eyes. Then he shrugged and turned away.
gaze. —The last I knew, he was a sailor. Just as he wanted.
Oh, Jerry,

Phin's voice was painful when he spoke again. —When I left home,
Jeremiah was a little boy. I can't even imagine his face.
He still looks like Jerry. You would recognize him. You recognized me.

He nodded, and his pain-filled eyes refocused on my face. -But I was

searching.
It was so different, and its melancholy made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I didn't understand this Phin. This Phin was a worn-out soldier, with the edges
shredded and the lost teeth, and I didn ’t know what to say or do to
reconnect with my old friend. Perhaps we just needed more time or more
intimacy, but we were not going to achieve it.

Her discomfort was as evident as mine, and she had begun to

to become anxious, with eyes scrutinizing the terrain and the soldiers of all ranks
that they enjoyed the fireworks that had started over the water. They
He shuddered and crouched down upon hearing a particularly loud noise.

I touched his arm as a farewell, giving him my silent permission to

to sneak away. After Yorktown, I didn't like the cannon fire either.
It was wonderful to see you, I said. I hope we can talk again.
I have been able to write to your parents... to no one at all... and I would like to write to you.
you.
You have always had a way with words. But don't do anything that could harm you.
pillar. I’m not worth the trouble, and it seems you have something good going on.

You have always been worth it, Phineas Thomas.

He smiled, letting me glimpse the boy I had met, and he greeted me, although
his rank was higher than mine.
Goodbye, Rob - the words sounded so definitive.
 Goodbye, Phin —I choked on the growing lump in my throat.
I'm glad you didn't wait. I'm never coming back. I don't think any of us will.
of the two it will do —she greeted me again and turned around, throwing me one last glance
glance over the shoulder before blending in with the crowd.

The general was very lively when I found him in his office later.
midnight. Everything had gone smoothly since the
demonstrations in the field until the final explosion of the fireworks
about the river.

The Red House was finally silent, our guests settled in their
rooms, and the general was sprawled in his chair, humming a melody
that the band had played, with a relaxed face in the candlelight. It had
removed the boots and had the jacket and the vest thrown on another chair, as well as the
bandana and the banner. The bottle of brandy that I had placed on her
the desk was open, with a half-full glass in hand.
She was wilted and tired, after having gone from one extreme to the other of the
garnishment throughout the day, addressing countless needs and
countless tasks, and my bad leg throbbed at the same time as the
aching heart. I had not recovered from my encounter with Phin. I had not
I was worried that he would find out, but I was very affected.

Seeing the general's satisfaction reassured me a lot.

Ah, there you are,
Here I am, I sighed. Do you have everything you need, sir?
I realized an hour ago that I didn't make the arrangements to sleep for
me... or for you —he said. —I was so busy accommodating everyone else that
I forgot that the commander would be in my quarters.
It is not your duty to make arrangements for me, sir.

—Sampson —rolled his eyes. —Of course it is.

 I took care of it, sir.
He had placed two mattresses on the thick carpet and moved part of
our clothes from their quarters before General Washington arrived. The
the jar was full of water for washing, and I had made sure that
there would be a tray with ham, cheese, bread, and fruit, in case he became hungry. It
had stolen from the banquet, worried that he wouldn't sit long enough
to eat. I hadn't sat down all day.
Yes. I see that I do. And I am grateful for the brandy too.
cup. —You are remarkable. An excellent assistant, although this arrangement —he leaned the
Glass towards our bed. —It's not... ideal. You should have some privacy.
I am used to the lack of privacy, sir.
I am aware of it,
como una aceptación del alojamiento, por íntimo que fuera. Me senté en el
small couch next to the door and I took off my boots, suppressing a moan of
gratitude for taking them off. My hair had started to come loose and I pulled on it, I...
I shrugged and took off the scarf from my neck.
You are tired,
—I'm coming —I had gone to the restroom and washed up at the fountain, and I just wanted
Lie down on the blankets and rest the aching leg.
The general got up and took the tray, but instead of trying the selection,
She sat down next to me and placed it between the two of us.

—Come —he ordered, and I obeyed without saying a word.

—Out of arguments? You must be exhausted —he murmured, placing a piece

of ham on a slice of bread and taking a huge bite. I recoiled from
shoulders with sorrow and we ate in silence.

It has gone well, sir. You should be very proud, I remarked, reinvigorated by
the food and its company. —Everything was perfect. The colors, the sounds, the weather.
Everything was wonderful.

Yes. It was.

—And you even danced —I said to her, giving her a little smile.
 Mrs. Knox did not accept no for an answer, and she could not find you.
he replied, ironically. "It's easy to see why she and Henry fight. They both have
a tenacious will.
You did very well. And yes, Mrs. Knox is scary. I would love to be her
friend someday.
The general burst into laughter.
I have never really liked to dance. Elizabeth loved it, so I did it.
for her, and she never lacked partners. Do you know how to dance, Samson?

Of course, although I have never been to a dance like that.

Se sacudió las manos y se puso en pie. —Vamos. Arriba. Te he hecho comer.

Now I will make you dance.

—Sir? We don't have music —I said, but I got up, excited by the
perspective.
I wore my hair down, but I didn't bother to tie it up. Decorum to a
at such a late hour, when we were alone behind a closed door, it seemed
unnecessary. And the general was as disheveled as I was. The warm air and the
dance hours in the hall had turned her normal waves into curls that fell
on his forehead and escaping from his untidy tail. We had bare feet
And, looking at them, I saw that our difference was notable. My feet were narrow and my
thin ankles. Hers were big and speckled with hair. I curved the
toes and I averted my gaze, but not before he also noticed the
contrast.
You must always wear your shoes, Samson. Even your feet betray you.
But you already know who I am.
He cleared his throat. —Yes. Well... give me your hand.

I can't think of a single melody, I said, putting the palm of my hand

against yours. My hands were big, but yours were enormous. — The
Thomas only sang the hymns.
Ah. But I know a hymn that will work - he started to hum - Praised
may the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation —in a waltz rhythm of three
time and extended his hand making a small bow.
 I hummed with him while we found our rhythm and synchronized.
our steps.
You are trying to drive, Samson. Stop. You must be the woman or
we will crash.
I am being the woman. You have taken the wrong path. Is it because you are
Left-handed? —I argued.

You are not doing the woman's part. You are doing the same thing as me. You
I am going to step.

Some steps walked down the hall and we stood still, fearing that we had
too much noise. A door opened and closed, and the footsteps receded.
Let's try it again,
We shook hands and took a step to the left-two-three and to the right-two-
three, to the left-two-three and to the right-two-three, all while we sang
amid whispers 'Praise the Lord' and we laughed, trying not to.
too high.
"You keep playing the part of the man," she hissed, laughing.

I was afraid I would have to walk around the room with one of the wives of the
I practiced a bit. Now I'm confused and can't remember which one it is.
which.
We should pick another number. How about 'Yankee Doodle'? It's catchy.
—he/she suggested.
Immediately we launched into a much more vigorous version of the
same steps, raised tone and energetic, singing softly, and I managed to
execute the correct steps, until the end, where I forgot to bow and we
We leaned at the same time and bumped our heads.
Oh! Damn it - the general laughed, holding his forehead. He rubbed my
head with a palm while massaging hers.
I'm sorry, Samson. That must have hurt.
I just intended to make fun of him, to play a joke on him like friends do,
but when I moaned and staggered, planning to fall onto my bed as if the
the collision would have really hurt me, his arms shot out and me
she went down to the ground, searching for my head with her fingers and stroking my cheeks
while I leaned against his chest.

—Deborah. Damn it. My mother said that I had the biggest head and
hard of all the children he had seen. He said it was a marvel that
I survived my birth. If I had been the oldest, my sisters would never
they would have been born. It's a large stone stick, that's what it is - he worried,
hugging me and looking at me intently as if waiting for my eyes to
they will faint at any moment.
I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. - I'm fine, John. I was just teasing you.
the hair.
He sat back on his heels, but he didn't let go of me. —You were just... taking me for a ride.
hair —he stated emphatically.
Yes. But now I am very comfortable. Do you think you could rock me until that
I fall asleep... maybe a lullaby too? You have a beautiful voice —to him
smiled, desperately needing to laugh a little more, but his eyes had
half-closed. And for a moment I thought that something had changed, or perhaps just
it reflected what I felt.
You called me John - he muttered.

I did it. Was he angry? —Yes. I'm sorry, sir. I forgot about myself for
a moment.
Neither of them smiled anymore. But he didn't let me go.

"It's late," he said.

It is.
He let me go abruptly and stood up. He approached the pitcher and poured himself a glass of
water before filling the cup again and bringing it to me.

I took a few sips and handed it back. I knew I shouldn't fill my bladder if that
it meant going out in the dark when the entire garrison - the whole hillside - was bustling with
visitors.
He left the cup on the floor, blew out the candles, and fell onto his mattress. I did the same.
too warm to hide among the blankets and too
aware of the man next to me to think about sleeping.
 I thought about telling him that I had seen Phineas, but I dismissed it immediately. The
the general would get angry and talk about sending me home again. And I didn't want to talk.
of Phineas. Not yet. I didn't even want to think about him. But Phineas had made me
a question for which I had no answer.
"Sir?" I whispered.

—Yes?
Why did you ask me to be your assistant? Aren't the usual choices made for the
assistants among the officers?
He stayed quiet for a moment and I wondered if he would tell me the truth or some
response.
You impressed me. And you intrigued me.

I had to remain silent, waiting for them to continue.

Now I realize... that you have always intrigued me. Even as a voice
In one page, you looked like no one I had ever known. Elizabeth thought
you were a wonder. I would read fragments of your letters aloud and shake the
Head. How am I going to respond to that, John? she said.

I never wrote about girl things, I told him.

—No. You didn't do it —there was laughter in his voice.

It was supposed to be practicing the art of writing letters and conversing.

correctly. But I wanted to know more, and when I discovered that Elizabeth was
willing to talk about serious things and deep thoughts, I was happy
a lot.
He said it felt like she was being interrogated by a lawyer.
experienced and he delivered them to me. That's how... that's how I got involved. I don't
It mattered. Writing to you about the preparations for the war actually helped me to
solidify and clarify my own beliefs.
Your letters were my favorite. I think... if I hadn't been born a girl,
maid, I would have liked to study Law. Were there women in your classes in
Yale?
No. But I have no doubt that you would defend yourself.
 Are women allowed in any of the universities?
No. They don't.
Maybe after the war... if I still am Robert Shurtliff, I could go to the
school —my heart started to race. I hadn't even dared to
to dream beyond the days I was currently living. But maybe I could simply live
like a man indefinitely. Or at least until he had achieved everything he had to.
what he wanted to do and that required a pair of pants and some tied breasts.
--Would you continue with this farce? --he asked in a low voice. --Is there nothing in
to be a woman that attracts you?

Many things, I murmured, but I did not list them. I yearned to feel the sway of
a skirt around my legs and the weight of my hair as I brushed it. And there was
many things that interested me now and that had not interested me before
to meet you.
Just the thought made my breasts ache and my heart race.
belly, but I ignored that impossible longing, distracting myself with the conversation.
Nathaniel once told me that I should stop trying to be something I'm not.
But that's not what I'm doing.
"Not?" he snorted.

— No. I try to be something... that I am — let the statement settle,

incontestable, so I continued. —Elizabeth told me that one day I would be a woman.
which would inspire a lot of admiration. They were very kind to me.

He was kind to everyone,

—Hmm.
—What? What is hmm?
That does not comfort me. If he was kind to everyone, he is not so special that it...
get out with me.
Ahh -she murmured. -Well, I don't know anyone else to whom I would write.
Like you —he said. —I cared for you a lot.

The excitement was tickling my nose. What a day it has been.

 He responded to my letters for nearly a decade. And you too, I added.
Although... you were very different in your correspondence.
It was and it wasn't, but I had discovered that I liked to tease him. It was
a proper outlet for my affection and a good distraction from the pain that
felt in the chest.
I hope so. I wasn't writing to a soldier. I was writing to a precocious girl.
You were kind to me too.
Of course so.
But I expected you to resemble Reverend Conant. Or the deacon.
Thomas. Or even... George Washington.
He exhaled.
Perhaps Benjamin Franklin?
He started to laugh.

"Do you know Mr. Franklin?" I asked him.

That's right. It is very popular among ladies.

It is his intellect.

Oh, really?
An intelligent man is always attractive. What a life he has lived!

Indeed —the general yawned and I responded with a yawn.

Good evening, Samsón. Today you made me feel proud.
My emotion bubbled up again, and this time it overflowed, dripping down my cheeks.
I turned to the side, away from him, so he wouldn't see me.

Good night, John, I whispered. Only when I fell asleep did I realize.
He recounted that he had done it again. He had called him John.
 Chapter 22

A LONG CHAIN OF ABUSES

For two weeks, the garrison of West Point was pleased with itself.
same and drowsy, trapped in the glow of the success of the operation. It
the flags were lowered, the artillery was stored, and the ...
normal schedules. It wasn't too hot. It wasn't cold. It was peaceful and
calm and almost easy, and it didn't last. The heat and boredom are almost as miserable
how to march in the snow, and idle hands and minds are more prone to
discontent
The temperatures soared in the first week of July, and a hundred of
men of General Paterson's brigade decided that the time had come to
time to celebrate your own party. Tired of inactivity and the months without
they abandoned their posts in the middle of the night and gathered in White Plains,
sending a message to the general that they would return to work when they had been
given what had been promised to them.
The Point was engulfed in chaos, and General Paterson sent Agrippa.
running north, to New Windsor, to deliver a message to the
commander in chief, while gathering a force from various camps along
from the North River to go after them and calm the situation.

General Washington wanted to avoid an attack or provocation, but

the sooner it is addressed, the better, and he gave General Paterson full authority to
manage the situation as he deemed appropriate. At dusk that same day,
all the light infantry soldiers of the garrison were gathered, it had
We established a plan and got started.
We had just crossed the river and disembarked at the Peekskill camp.
when the sky thundered and hurricane winds rose. The general had the
intention to bring together another 250 men from the lower camps,
doubling our number, with the intention of intimidating the insurgents to
to surrender immediately. Instead, he ordered the men to already
had gathered to lighten their backpacks and fasten their capes, and that
they were ready to leave immediately.
We are leaving now. Without cars. Without horses. Without drums. Without warnings. No
they will think we come. Not on a night like this. And maybe we can finish without
that no one gets hurt.
I wanted him to follow behind with Agrippa and another slower detachment.
They would bring cars, horses, and provisions, and I could ride Common Sense.
Your leg still bothers you. You cover it well, but it is not healed.

She frowned, offended. 'Don't you know me at all?'

I know you too well,
I will keep the pace, sir. I am your assistant. I must go.

He shook his head and gave in, although I knew he wanted to argue. The colonel
Sproat had arrived at the camp an hour before us and, in a matter
for minutes, he had taken twenty-five men accustomed from his regiment to
such rigors and that they would not oppose the unpleasant mission that awaited them.
no one liked the riots.
We moved fast and hard for thirty kilometers, with the rain in our faces and
the earth sucking on our feet. At one point, the boots felt so heavy to me.
that I considered abandoning them, but I was afraid of falling behind when I stopped.
to take them off. Moreover, the general had warned me to keep my feet
cutlery, and none of the other men removed theirs.
I stood my ground, but not without considerable suffering. The general
he stayed by my side, but we didn't talk -the storm made it impossible- and I didn't
offered help, although I would not have accepted it if he had done so.

Maybe it was the coverage of the torrential rains and howling winds, or
Perhaps the rebels did not expect the general to advance upon them so
quickly, but while they huddled in tents that did not keep them warm
dry, feeding the flames of their discontent, we began to form
a perimeter around the insurgent camp.
We were covered in mud and wet to the bone when we made
presence act, but by the time the sun came out and the storm calmed down,
the mutineers were completely surrounded.
 Colonel Sproat and his twenty-five men evicted the inhabitants of
each store with the bayonets fixed while the rest of us maintained
a narrow circle around the camp. No one tried to flee or fight, but
nor did anyone ask for mercy.
General Paterson ordered them to line up in rows of ten and asked the
responsible individuals to step forward.
Who leads this rebellion? asked General Paterson, projecting
his voice so that everyone could hear him.

No one moved or spoke, knowing that it was most likely that the leaders
they were executed before the end of the day.
The general was gloomy, with a face splattered with mud and hair in
streams under the soaked hat. The day before, when I shaved his face,
he called for Reverend Hitchcock, chaplain of his brigade, and asked him to pray
with him.

— Will it include the mutineers? — Paterson had said. — He asks for his
hearts soften and that blood is not spilled. And ask God to help me
to know what is just.
Justice and mercy were a delicate balance, which he managed well,
but it worried him.
Reverend Hitchcock was not here now, and the mutineers were from
hard and unrepentant look, and almost as wet and miserable as the rest of
we. They had not softened their hearts. None wore shoes nor
hat. Most were wearing shorts and nothing else. It had rained, but it was still
July, and they had probably shrugged their shoulders before leaving.
It was then that I saw Phineas. He was wearing a shirt, unlike many of
the others, and her dark hair fell over her shoulders and concealed her face full of
scars. I didn't know if he had noticed me, soaked and dirty as I was. I had
the gaze fixed on the general, the chin held high and the somber eyes.

You have all suffered for a cause that has lost its shine,
General Paterson, raising his voice to be heard. He pointed to the armed soldiers.
that surrounded the camp of the mutineers. — All of them have also ...
suffered. And they suffer now, being forced to confront you, companions
soldiers, brothers, patriots. And that's what I find hardest to forgive. Not
they should also have to fight against you. This is not the way. We have
arrived too far. And if I do not punish those responsible, this will happen again. And
men like them... —he pointed at the soldiers, with their muskets drawn
and the shadowed eyes, that had marched through the damp darkness
to impose a punishment they did not want to be part of. —Men like them
they will suffer.

—Then let them join us! —someone shouted from the center of the
training.
"Come closer, soldier," the general demanded. The men moved,
looking at each other, but the dissident did not reveal himself.

I ask you, as soldiers and men entrusted with

maintain and defend, do what you agreed to do —the general pleaded.
They haven't done what they agreed to do, spoke another man. None of
you

The general nodded, with his mouth agape, and asked again: —Who is
the person responsible for this uprising?

All the heads bowed and all the men stood still.
Then, from the end of the line, Phineas stepped forward and said: 'I am the'
responsible.
My bad leg bent and the bile in my stomach turned to ice.
Phineas looked at me then and shook his head, the movement almost imperceptible,
but the general saw it.
What is your name, soldier?
Lieutenant Phineas Thomas. Colonel Putnam's Regiment. Brigade of
General Paterson - his mouth twisted in a sneer, and some men
They let out a chuckle when he added: —We are all in your brigade, General.
General Paterson frowned and then cleared his throat upon hearing the name.
Phineas Thomas —he murmured, but Phineas heard him.

Yes, sir.
And are you the one responsible?

I am.
 —And who else? —the general asked again. —Does Lieutenant Thomas speak?
In the name of the ninety-eight?
More silence.
And will they let Lieutenant Thomas receive his punishment as well?

No one else stepped forward.

— General Paterson — I said. — Can I speak on behalf of the Lieutenant

Thomas?
My heart was beating so loud that I could only hear my voice inside my head,
but all the men had turned to look at me, so I knew that I
they had heard. Phineas shook his head and General Paterson was motionless.
Lieutenant Thomas has served since 1775. He is one of ten siblings, all
four of them have died. No family has given more.
that yours. I ask you to have mercy on him —I pleaded.
Phineas shook his head, vehemently. -No. I don't want pity. I want
justice.
I cannot give you justice,
you the justice.
So, why are you here? Why are we here? -Phineas shouted.
The mutineers behind him rumbled in agreement.
Why? the general replied. It's something I've asked myself every day.
since this conflict began. Why am I here? What is all this for?
This? That is something that each person must answer for themselves.

The men looked at each other and then looked back at Phineas, and the general said to him
spoke directly.
There is nothing I can do to compensate you, Lieutenant. Nothing that anyone
can do to compensate for what he has given and what he has lost. There is no
justice for that. It doesn't exist. But I will turn my back on you and let you take your revenge.
he took off the coat, threw it on the floor, and proceeded to unbutton the vest and curl up
from shoulders, until he was left standing, nude except for the boots and the shorts.

Give the whip to Lieutenant Thomas,

 The silence was absolute, but my horror was reflected on the face of each
soldier.

‘Sir?’ I protested, but the general did not recognize me at all, and I
I subdued the scream that was lurking behind my teeth.

—Give the whip to Lieutenant Thomas! —the general repeated.

Colonel Sproat nodded to one of his men. A moment later, he
He approached with a whip.

You are not the one who has wronged me, General Paterson,
Astonished, but he accepted the whip.

If it's not me, who? I lead your brigade. I make sure you get paid. And
to feed them. And listen to them. And they have not paid you. Nor fed you. Or listened.
None of you have done it. You have not been thanked properly. And
they are tired.

Phineas nodded, with a trembling chin and shining eyes. —Yes, sir.
I am tired.
So take your revenge, Lieutenant. You took responsibility, and I
I will also take it on.

General Paterson turned and offered the wide expanse of his flesh
undress the ninety-eight men who still remained in their ranks and
Phineas, who was left frozen in place.
Terror took hold of my belly and I approached the general with the musket.
loaded and lifted, fearful that her vulnerable position would be seen as a
opportunity to disperse or attack. Colonel Sproat seemed to have the same
idea, and we positioned ourselves ready to his left and right.
--Step aside, Shurtliff -- demanded the general, raising his gaze to mine.
—Sproat, you too.
Phineas tested the weight of the whip and gave it a practice crack. Any
A boy raised on a farm had learned to use a whip.
How guilty are you, General? he asked quietly. How many
men have deceived?
At least ninety-eight,
 —You have no position to hold on to —implied Phineas. —How do I know
that you will not flee?

Proceed, lieutenant,
Phineas stepped back, showing his teeth, and let the whip crack.
against the back of the general.
—One! —he shouted.

I closed my eyes. It pulled back again. —Two!

When he reached ten, I had started to shake and my face was wet.
of sweat and tears, but the general had not stopped him, and Phineas seemed
completely indifferent to everything that was not the power of his hand and the pleasure of
movement.
Enough already, Lieutenant Thomas, roared Colonel Sproat, raising his
mosquito. Phineas ignored him and attacked again. From my position, I could not see the
damage caused to the general's back, but to all the mutineers
remained with their heads down, not enjoying the spectacle. The soldiers
The ones guarding them were as saddened as I was.
Enough, Thomas,
He still has eighty-seven lashings left, said Phineas. So do I.
I want justice for these men.
I will not allow an innocent man to receive my lashes - he burst out.
man. He stepped forward and positioned himself in front of the general. —I will take mine.

Phineas's chin sank into his chest and his shoulders dropped, as if
suddenly he would have become self-aware again.
"Has justice been served, Lieutenant Thomas?" asked the general.
Yes, sir,
The general straightened up and turned back to the men. He had the
cut and bloody back, but he did not seem weakened or faint.

He asked the man who had stepped forward: —Are you the one responsible?
of this uprising, soldier?
 I am responsible for my part in this, General Paterson, and I will do it
responsible for the five men of my company who are here by my example.
I haven't been paid for months. The currency I have received is an insult.... it is
an insult to all of us. It only serves to wipe my ass, and I have a
woman and five daughters at home who have been without me for too long. My three years have
Finished, but my colonel says I signed until the end of the war.
What is your name, soldier?

—Captain Christian Marsh, General, sir.

What justice can I give you today, Captain Marsh?

I will receive ten lashes for my men. No, eleven. The same as you.
I will return to my post and stay until the end of this forgotten conflict of God.
I will stay until the end if you do, sir.
Agreed.
Captain Marsh stripped to the waist and, with his jaw unhinged
and with his hands together, he received eleven lashes from Phineas Thomas with the same
stoicism that the general had exhibited. Other officers among the mutineers
They took the initiative and negotiated their own conditions, very similar to theirs:
once lashes, immediate reintegration into service and the promise to stay
while the general remained as well.
Phineas was soaked in sweat and was fidgeting on his feet, but not
I wanted to renounce the whip. It wasn't until several more men stepped forward that
front, promising their commitment and obtaining in exchange a promise from the
Overall, Phineas finally handed over the whip to Colonel Sproat. They gave him water.
and returned to the line.

Each man signed with his name or mark on the paper, and the general
Paterson put his name next to each one. By mid-afternoon, each rioter
he had been seen, heard, and punished according to his own judgment. Everyone had accepted
return to service, reassured by the promise that General Paterson
I would continue fighting for them.

All the men who had participated in the uprising were to be

escorted back to their post and placed under the custody of their commanding officer,
and until they were, they would be watched like rebels. The
arms, the men were divided according to their companies and camps, and they
They assigned their guards.

The heat and humidity, especially for those with open wounds in
the back, were unbearable, and the fatigue of the soldiers from the night before
they had dragged themselves through twenty miles of intense rain and mud.
detachment with cars, horses, and supplies had not yet arrived, but the
the consensus was to return towards Peekskill Hollow, hoping to intercept them
antes de que pasara mucho tiempo y descansar una vez que tuviéramos refuerzos.
I had been watching Phineas all afternoon, and often I
had been surprised to see me too. The mutineers had been
allowed to collect their belongings and dismantle their tents, and most were
sitting in silence, waiting to leave. He had taken down his tent,
but the effort seemed to exhaust him, and I had filled his canteen and had
brought to where I was sitting, with my elbows resting on my knees. He asked me
my serving of rum, but I had used it to wash the general's wounds, and so
I told him/her.

Could you tell everyone who you are, Rob - she murmured, with her dark
speculative look. —I could tell the general. But I think he knows.
look how a man looks at another man. And when you spoke for me... that does not
liked.
"Why would you do that, Phin?" I asked, my voice soft, my eyes hard.
To save you.
-For what?

He frowned. —You don't mean what?

I'm here, Phin. If I wanted to save myself from this, I would never have come. And if I
Delatas... where would you go?

Maybe I don't want to save myself either,

His belongings were scattered beside him, his blanket piled up and his
barefoot. He took a long hunting knife out of his backpack and approached the general.
leaving everything else behind.

—Phin? Put the knife in your backpack —I ordered him, but he ignored me.

I did not sign your paper nor did I accept your promise, General Paterson,
 General Paterson had put his shirt back on, but the straps of his
team brushed against the wounds, and he had given his backpack and his box of cartridges to
another soldier to carry them, as well as his musket and the belt he wore
at the waist. He was unarmed and distracted, and he was not paying attention to Phineas.

I said I didn't want pity! shouted Phineas, and the general finally gave him
paid attention. Phineas had started to breathe with difficulty and not
he was blinking. Colonel Sproat cocked his musket and took a small step back.
I did the same.
Phineas looked at me and Colonel Sproat, as if he were checking.
our disposal, and then slowly drew the knife from the sheath with hand
firm and fixed expression.

You have served long enough, Lieutenant Thomas, said General Paterson,
Measured voice. — Go home. Or continue. I will give you a complete leave and
honorable. It is your decision.

They did not whip me like the others.

—No. I took the punishment for you.

Lieutenant Thomas,
I don't think he will, Ebenezer - said Phin. - You won't tell this to my
Mother... right? You will tell her that I was a hero. You will tell her that I died valiantly.
Like my brothers.
—Phineas Thomas, lower that —I demanded, sounding like the sister who always
had been.
I didn't want to tell you, Rob, but Jerry is gone too. He is gone too.
You may be the only one of us left.
He lunged forward, showing his teeth, the knife raised high, his eyes
positions in the general, and I shouted in denial and rage. But I also squeezed the
trigger. The force hurled him at full speed, with the knife still held in the
hand, his dirty feet briefly leaving the ground, and I went back to chase him,
as I had done all those years, trying to reach it, trying
to catch him before he fell. But he won.
I collapsed next to her, hoping to have brushed against her, hoping not to have.
given. But he hadn't done it. And neither had Ebenezer Sproat.
 I will never forgive you for this, Phineas Thomas - I shouted, clenching my hands.
against the holes in his chest.
I don't want you to save me, Rob,
and he smiled at me like old Phineas. —It doesn't even hurt. It's like flying. Didn't you use to...
dreaming of... flying?

I grabbed his hand, but it was fading and it was already starting to get cold.
I'm not going to run anymore, Rob. You win.

The general barked orders at Dr. Thatcher, who had just arrived with
the second detachment. A moment later, Colonel Sproat knelt down to
my side with bandages and rum, but it was already too late. Phineas died with his eyes
open and a smile of satisfaction on their lips, as if they knew exactly what
what I had done and what I wanted.
Sproat closed his eyes with a gentle touch. —You didn't kill him. I didn't either. He
he committed suicide. You know that, right, Deborah Samson?

I didn't even react. I was too shattered. Too dazed.

But Sproat continued gently, even kindly.
It took me a while to locate you. I probably would have never realized.
If you hadn't talked today about Phineas. Rob called me, and I remembered the maid.
skinny girl who lived with the Thomas. I remembered the story that my father wrote to me about
Deborah Samson trying to enlist and being taken out of her tavern by the
deacons of the church to sleep off a drunkenness.
I laugh as if we haven't just killed a boy that we both knew.
since childhood. Ebenezer Sproat had been here too long. Or maybe it
I had seen it all. I didn’t even surprise him.
Did that happen? - he gently pressed.
I neither admitted nor denied it. I limited myself to looking at Phin's dead face and his dirty
barefoot and waiting for Sproat's verdict, completely insensitive to everything
that.
In my view, you are a good soldier. A damn good soldier. And
Any soldier who wants to be here is one that I want to keep. God knows.
that we have enough that don't want. I won't tell anyone. Not even to myself.
father, although he would love to hear it — he gave me a pat on the shoulder. — Maybe
someday, huh?

Are you awake, Deborah? asked the general when he finally arrived at the
bed. Dr. Thatcher had taken care of her back, but she had spent the night
among the mutineers and, due to the silence that reigned in the camp, it seemed that
he had been the last to leave.
The use he made of my name was my downfall, a reminder of my life
previously, of the people I had loved and who had loved me, although
it had never been enough. I had promised myself that I would not cry, but
I was falling apart.

I swallowed and steadied myself to respond. —Yes, sir.

I had washed the blood of Phin from my hands and had changed my clothes.
shirt. Then he had set up the general's tent and had prepared a
small meal, and when there was nothing else to do, I went under the
I covered myself and desired forgetfulness. But it had not arrived.

The general did not lie down on the mattress that had been laid out for him, and his broad back
he slumped in sign of defeat. He was sitting, with his elbows resting on the
knees and the head bowed, a dark shadow that stood out against the pale
store wall.
I needed tranquility. I needed comfort. I needed him to talk to me,
as I had done when I was behind him in Lenox, trying to prevent him from
I would fall. But my heart hurt too much and I couldn't do anything but hold on.
the teeth in the suffocating silence and collapse so silently as I was
capable.
"I wanted to die," she whispered, and although I wasn't sure that she was speaking to me.
hablando, ahogué una respuesta.

—Yes, sir. I know.

I gave him mercy, but I wanted relief.
 Yes, sir, was all I could say, but it sounded so painful, like a
man stretched out on the horse, I got up and approached the bags that
I had placed it against the wall. I took out a tin cup, filled it halfway.
I lowered myself in front of him.
Drink it, sir. It will make you feel better.

I am not the one who cries,

Maybe you should.
Will it help?
It will relieve your grief.

He returned the cup without touching it. —If I start... I won't stop.

-Drinking, sir? Or crying?

He looked at me intently, exhausted from the battle, but I urged him again with the
cup. —I won't let you drink too much.
She raised an eyebrow, as if to say: 'You couldn't stop me.' She picked up the cup and
drank all the contents, shuddering from the taste and the burn, but insisted on
that I would take the last drink. I did it, simply to avoid the argument.
I have put your canteen there next to your roll, in case you need it. It's full, and
the water is sweet and cold —I got up and put the tin cup back in the
backpack
Thank you.
I went back to my sleeping bag and lay down on it, but I faced it.
He recognized you. He called you Rob.

—Yes. He knew that I was... here. He saw me the night of the celebration of
dolphin

—And you saw it too.

Yes. I talked to him.

And you didn't tell me.

 My tears turned into a torrent and I couldn't respond. He waited,
with her head bowed, as if she had betrayed him, and that worsened my anguish.
It hurt too much, I said, gritting my teeth against the waves that
they kept climbing.
-Why?
He had changed so much.
We have all changed. And none for the better — his voice was plaintive. — Is it
Is it that difficult to trust me, Samson?

It's not trust, sir. It's fear.

—Fear of what? I know who you are.

Fear of this — I choked, and touched my cheeks. — Fear of

to break me. To cry. To suffer. There is a whole life of pain inside me. It is in
my chest and in my belly. It's in my head and in my arms. My ... hurt.
legs. Also the feet. It's under my skin and in my blood, and I can't...
endure... more.
—Oh, Samson —she whispered.

He sat next to me and stroked my hair and dried my cheeks, even though it was him.
who was injured. I tried to get up once, but he pushed me down and
he brought me the canteen that I had filled.
I drank and cried, and drank again, but he did not abandon me, and when the
The tremors ceased and my chest emptied, he brought his mattress closer to mine and lay down.
to the side, with his chest to my back, and he brought me closer, wrapping me with his body.

Does it hurt a lot, sir? I whispered, too tired to lift my...

head.
--Shh. I'm fine. Sleep --he murmured. I thought he had kissed me on
the crown, but maybe it was just his breath stirring my hair.
I am afraid to sleep. Afraid to dream. When I close my eyes, I continue
watching him fall.

-Tell me about the young Phineas -he said.

 I did it, tiptoeing through the early years, with a dragged voice and
short stories, but fear receded before the sweet memories.

—Phineas Thomas, the boy who was defeated by the magical underpants —he said
John. —That is the boy you must remember.
--He said that death felt like flying-- I murmured, and I let myself be carried away towards
the dream. —He said that Jerry had also left. I believed him. I have felt it for a
time, from Tarrytown, but I didn't want to admit it.
Oh, Samson, John whispered again, knowing what he felt for the most
young Thomas of the brood, my other half, my best companion, but I was more
beyond words. I just wanted to rest in the comfort of his arms.
I dreamed of paths, wildflowers, and races among the trees, and Phineas
he was above them, but I did not see Jeremíah. He had already said goodbye.

When I got up the next morning, I had emptied myself, but instead of
feeling sunk, I felt clean, even whole. Perhaps my pain had
I had started to distort myself into another person, and I had returned to my original form.
I felt numb.
Poor General Paterson, no.
He was not by my side when I woke up, and I doubt he had slept.
a lot. Every movement reopened the welts, and the ointment that he applied to me
Doctor Thatcher was not as good as the one Morris had given me. Still, it
I carefully stitched up the crisscrossed wounds and bandaged them tightly, and
we started the long walk back to the Peekskill camp, although
our horses had arrived with the wagons and the second detachment.
"I feel better walking than riding a horse," he said, and I insisted on walking with him.
side. We walked dragging our feet, letting others overtake us.
You should ride, Samson. Your walking doesn't make me feel better.

I am walking with you, sir. All the way.

 You are so stubborn —he complained. —It's exhausting.

Deacon Thomas said the same. But I am not stubborn. I am open-minded.

strong.

He laughs, what I intended. —What is the difference? —he asked.

One is a virtue. The other is not.
Ahh. This is how it works. We take our flaws and reframe them.
How clever.
It is a very important distinction. You, sir, are not harsh, but rather austere.
He is inflexible with the rules. He has to be. His men suffer when he does not.
it is.
How is that?
Rationing saves lives in winter. So does cleanliness and saving, and
the guards who are not drunk —I swallowed hard. —And to impart painful justice
because mercy would encourage the wolves.
I don't know if my experiment of mercy went that well yesterday.

We were calm then, trapped in the tangle of mercy and the

justice and which was which.

— They always send you, right? — I asked. — When there is a rebellion or a

traitor or a conflict that needs to be resolved. They send you.

Yes, curiously, it is the story of my life. Faithful and obedient above

All set. Old reliable. Did you know that ’s what my classmates at Yale called me?
He was always the one who got others out of trouble. I was the serious one. The strict one.
When they planned something, they wouldn't tell me because they knew I would try to make them.
come to reason. But they always turned to me when everything was falling apart.

Elizabeth said it was likely that you would get dragged into the fray there.
wherever you go, even if you wanted to avoid it. She said: —He has broad shoulders, a
level head, and a patriotic heart. Like Solomon, but without desire to
Corona. I think he is right.
He gave me too much credit. You did too.
 —No —I shook my head. —No. You are the best man I've ever known, John.
Paterson.
And you are the most extraordinary woman.
 Chapter 23

PROPORCIONAR NUEVOS GUARDIAS

In March, an officer named Captain Huddy from New Jersey had been
assigned to guard a stronghold in Monmouth that was attacked by a regiment
of loyalists. Captain Huddy, after exhausting all his ammunition, was taken captive.
and taken to New York. A few weeks later, without trial or warning
someone was taken to the coast of New Jersey late at night and hanged
from a tree.
A letter pinned to Captain Huddy's chest said: "We, the
loyalists, having contemplated with pain for a long time the cruel
murders of our brothers, we decided not to suffer without taking revenge for these
numerous cruelties. We have used Captain Huddy as the first target.
to present it for your viewing; and we also decided to hang man by man
As long as there is a loyalist. Up Huddy by Phillip White.
Subsequent investigations had revealed that Phillip White, a soldier
loyalist, had been taken prisoner in a skirmish after the captain
Huddy would have already been confined. Phillip White had also been, after surrendering.
caught a musket and shot the son of a colonel before escaping. It was
recovered and once again placed under custody only to escape once more.
One of his pursuers, after repeatedly warning him to stop,
he struck him in the head with a saber, causing his death instantly.
The outcry of the inhabitants of New Jersey before Congress, as well as from
General Washington himself was so strident due to Huddy's death that the
General Washington summoned all the general officers and those
they commanded brigades or regiments to meet and deliberate on what was to be
to become.
The previous vote had taken place in June. Now it was September, and the
the commander in chief had gathered his officers again at Robinson's house,
this time to discuss the unfortunate circumstances in which they found themselves.
 I took the opportunity to take a look at Morris and Maggie, who,
Despite our common reticence and reserve, they had become my friends. I
I had little experience with friendship, and those two seemed to have even less, but
there had emerged a tacit understanding, which I did not analyze too much nor in which I
based. I simply enjoyed it and was always interested in their well-being as long as
could
General Paterson had been in a meeting all morning, but he had left.
out of the house during a break, desperate to get some fresh air and exercise. I
I had seen him leave and had run to his side.
Should I bring the horses, sir?

—No. General Washington has asked me to stay. There is another matter.

What I should attend to, but he is conferring with General Von Steuben in
I'm going for a walk right now.
Should I go with you?
If you wish - the general's voice was dry and his stride long, but I ran after him.

Your limp has worsened since the march to White Plains,

You should have listened to me. Both times.
The day Phineas died, our relationship changed, although I hadn't
allowed to draw conclusions from the intimacy we had shared. No
we were talking about it, and I was surprised that he mentioned it now.

I will bring more ointment from Maggie. It should help with the pain.

He stopped abruptly. —You didn't tell me you were hurt.

It is not constant. I can keep up the pace, General.

Yes. But you wouldn't win any races. Even with your magic underwear.

I tilted my hat back to get a better view of his eyes. —He knows the
fable of the tortoise and the hare, right, sir?
Yes, Samson. I do.
Who wins the race?
The turtle.
 That's right. I have lost some speed, but I haven't lost my endurance.
His gaze on my face softened and allowed me to set the rhythm while
we started to climb the hill that was behind the house. As we ascended,
he told me what had happened in the tense meeting.
Last June, without any discussion, we all put our thoughts in writing.
opinions on the Huddy matter and we gave them to General Washington. He did not
I wanted the feelings of others to make us change our minds.
Unfortunately, the consensus was to take reprisals of the same kind and hang a
British prisoner of the same rank.
Jadeé. I knew the fate of poor Huddy, but I knew nothing about the voting.
Is that what you wanted? I asked, trying to avoid any judgment.
my question.

—No. I was, as always, the voice of dissent. Captain Huddy was a

innocent man. Hanging another innocent person in retaliation for his death seemed
absurd, to say the least immoral. That's what I said.

I should have known. —What did you suggest?

I said that we should punish the authors if we found out who carried it out.
actually the hanging of Captain Huddy. Until then - he shrugged.
shoulders. —I recommended that we not do anything. No one liked that idea. I suggested
that we put all our effort and attention into ending this damn thing
conflict instead of creating new atrocities.
That was in June. What's happening now?

Now, General Washington is caught up in a mess.

How is that?
All British officers imprisoned in Lancaster of the same rank as the
Captain Huddy was taken to a room and was explained the
circumstances. They drew lots for it —the general paused, pained. —A
twenty-year-old captain named Asgill will be the unfortunate victim. It is a
member of the British guard of noble family —he sighed and shook his head. —The
General Washington is beside himself. It's the execution of John André again.
Major John André had been the British liaison between Benedict Arnold and Sir
Henry Clinton, the British commander in New York, when Arnold plotted the
treacherous surrender of West Point in October 1780. Arnold failed, but
he escaped, and John André was captured and subsequently hanged. A man was
a traitor, another a patriot, even if he fought for the opposing side. That the
patriot hung while the traitor remained free within the army
British continued to be a painful thorn in the American conscience.
But I have already said what I had to say, the general sighed. Then and
now. General Washington doesn't need a 'I told you so' from me.
The general sat on a rock that barely seemed to cling to the slope of
the hill, although it had probably been like that for eons. It was big enough to
that I could sit beside him, with my hands in my lap and my eyes fixed on him
landscape that stretched below us.
It's too hot for so much effort,
breath at all and the tension around his pale eyes and mouth had
diminished, making the effort worthwhile, in my opinion. His back
he had quickly recovered, but the pressures on him had not ceased.
What do you think Beverly Robinson was thinking when she built her house?
here? —I marveled. —It's not the most hospitable place, although there is something that
to speak of the views.
We could easily see the back of Robinson's house, and the
dependencias y huertos ahora repletos de fruta. Había pasado allí una hora. Saqué
I took a pear out of my pocket and gave it to the general, who took a huge bite out of it.
we exchanged, talking.
Robinson's wife, Susanna, brought the land into the marriage. Her name
was Philipse before marrying Beverley. She and her sister, Mary, were the
heirs of thousands of acres here.
An heiress. How nice for her, I murmured, licking my lips.
It is rumored that Washington was in love with Mary, the sister, in a
momento dado. Ella se casó con otro en su lugar.

—And now Washington is here, and the land is theirs.

Knowing him, I have no doubt he would have preferred to have the woman. And it is barely
the general threw the heart of the pear as far as he could, watching it
to rise and then bounce back, as if returning to the garden from which it had come.
 — Well, it's certainly no longer yours — I said dryly, uncovering my
canteen so that we could wash the juice off our fingers and face.
The general wet his thumb and ran his hand along the corner of my lips,
without waiting for the canteen. I licked it, and he instantly withdrew his hand and turned away the
look.
— No. But it stopped being hers the moment she got married — he said,
getting up.
I took a deep breath, ready to confront that exasperating injustice,
with a sticky chin and all, when John asked: —What do you think he's here for
that?
He pointed to Billy Lee, the African camera assistant from Washington, who rarely
he was far from the commander's side, even in battle. Lee was on horseback,
emerging from among the trees at the edge of the enormous expanse of green that
Once it had been a deer park, although big game hunting had been greatly
reduced by the starving army stationed nearby. But there was
atrapado algo.
He was carrying a gun and the reins in one hand and a rope in the other.
a rope wrapped around the torso of a man who was following closely behind, with the face
slippery from sweat, the unbuttoned blue jacket over the bare chest and
the bloodstained panties.

That's Davis Dornan — I breathed.

The general began to descend the slope that we had just climbed, half
running, half sliding on its haunches to get down, and I followed it
rhythm, with my musket hitting me on the back as I went down bouncing.
The alarm had been sounded, and a moment later, two dozen officers of the
the regiment and its aides were leaving the house, General Washington among them.
This man tried to kill me, General,
fixed eyes on Washington. He leaned down and freed Dornan from his binding. The eyes of the
man veered left and right, as if he were considering fleeing.
"The hat pierced me with a musket ball," added Lee, wielding the.
damaged garment.
It was an accident,
 He continued unfazed. - It seems he has been living in a cabin.
abandoned by the caretaker, at the edge of the property, at the back of the
Sugarloaf hill. I had gone out for a walk. It took me an hour to bring it back.
up to here.
"He shot me!" groaned Dornan, clutching his buttocks. He was walking fine like this.
that it should have only brushed against him, but the left side of his shorts was
soaked in a cheerful red flower.
-I had to do it -Lee said, without apologizing.
"Are you Davis Dornan?" asked General Paterson.
The man furrowed his brow, looked at the general, at me, and then at his shoes.
worn out. Three of his toes without socks stuck out above the soles.
Soldier Dornan deserted last May, explained General Paterson to
the others. —He is in the company of Captain Webb, in Colonel's regiment
Jackson. It was believed that he was one of the ringleaders of the planned riot after the
celebration of the dolphin.

I wasn't planning anything, General Paterson, sir - Dornan shook the

head, inflexible. — I was afraid they would blame me for it. I knew that
Shurtliff was speaking.
He focused his attention on me, and his fear immediately turned to mockery.
You are a liar, Shurtliff. I know it was you who told it. You can't
It's fair to the pretty ones. Do you think we don't all know how you were promoted?

Are you a deserter, soldier Dornan? asked General Washington,

interrupting Dornan's accusations. Washington's voice never rose.
above the gentle murmur that made the men around him bend down
towards him.

I haven't gone very far,

of the slanted eyes.
Did you shoot Mr. Lee?
I did it. But I didn't know it was your man.
General Washington asked the soldiers of his guard to stop Mr.
Dornan.
 Dornan panicked and lunged at me, clearly thinking that I
it would be the easiest to dodge. His fist grazed my face when I moved and I
I balanced myself, as I had done in a thousand maneuvers, and struck him on the head with the butt.
of the mosquito.

He collapsed as if he had been paid to do so, with his knees bent.

inward, my head at my feet, and I was back in Tarrytown, sick and
dizzy, looking at the first man he had killed.
The men around me only remained silent for a moment.

— I say, Shurtliff. Well done — said Von Steuben, but the general
Washington had already left.
—Paterson —he said. —We have just been informed of a problem in Philadelphia. If
we're done here, we have some more defectors to attend to.
I will make sure that Mr. Dornan is escorted back to the Point.
Colonel Jackson offered. Dornan was lifted by the armpits and dragged towards
the hospital, across from the house, with its head tilted and feet dragging
the whole way.
General Paterson had two bright red spots on the top of his cheeks, and
his pale eyes shone as he looked at me. 'Your nose is bleeding, Samson,' he said.
impassive. —Bring that ointment to Maggie, and ask Dr. Thatcher if
You can get a little ice for your cheek. You are going to need it.
He and the other officers dispersed immediately, following the general.
Washington back to the house, and I stayed, still holding my musket.
with both hands, the knuckles white on the barrel and the stock.

You're going to have a black eye,

Robinson one hour later.

— Yes, sir — my cheek was pulsing slightly and the skin was starting to
to fall in love, but it was not something that bothered me much or for long.
 He started to respond and seemed to think better of it. A small detachment
viajaba con nosotros, incluido el coronel Jackson, que nos había informado de que
Davis Dornan needed to spend a night in the hospital, but they would bring him from
return to the Point, under surveillance, as soon as he was in a position to be judged.
The circumstances were not ideal for a conversation, especially about
private character, and the general did not speak to me again.

General Washington was sending us to Philadelphia, and General Paterson was

agitated and impatient while we waited for the ferry that would take us to the
the other side of the river. A detachment from the Pennsylvania line, all soldiers
newly recruited, had barricaded themselves inside the state house in Philadelphia
and threatened to destroy it and harm the members of Congress if they did not
met their demands. To make matters worse, the city had been
affected by an outbreak of yellow fever during the summer, and the city could not
allow yourself the chaos. General Paterson, General Howe and fifteen hundred men
they were sent to suppress the uprising and restore order.
My entire team will leave for Philadelphia first thing in the morning.
General Paterson informed Joe, the stable boy, when we got off the horse.
our mounts at the Red House. —Agrippa and Colonel Kosciuszko also
they will travel with us, and Kosciuszko -and his mount- will not return. Our
Horses will need to be ready before dawn.
Joe nodded, he was never a man who needed many instructions, and
he led Lenox and Common Sense to the stables, murmuring to them as
they walked by their side.

What do you need me to do first, General? I asked.

Come with me, Samson,
neck while walking, as if the heat of the day had finally affected him.
She had loosened it before arriving at her office, and she pulled it off in one go.
while she was taking off her coat and starting to roll up her sleeves.

I approached the jug and poured a glass of water, glancing at my face.

in the mirror that was over the wardrobe. It didn't look bad. There was no
swelling. Neither deep discoloration. I doubted it would last more than one or two days.
I had seen worse.
The general took the glass without saying a word and drank it before approaching the
bowl and wash, nodding briefly when I excused myself to wash up
also briefly. He sat in his chair and opened his accounting book at
how much I left, but when I came back a few minutes later and sat down in front of him,
I kept looking out the window, with my elbows resting on the armrests and the
hands together under the chin.

—General?
Yes?
What is troubling you, sir?

He was deeply inspired. —I don't like what soldier Dornan implied—

he said, in a deep and harsh voice.

I didn't need to ask what insinuation. I knew it. It had happened to me too.
harassed. It had embarrassed me. It had also given me the outburst of anger that
I had needed to bring him down. But I was surprised that the general had
confess such feelings so easily. Generally, I had to insist.
and wait for him, but he continued with his gaze fixed on the twilight. The sun was setting.
putting and the clouds were violet against the green cliffs, but I didn't think that the
general felt detained by the purple sky.
General Washington does not spend even five seconds worrying about a
who choose their officers as assistants —he murmured.
Sir?
Von Steuben's preferences with his aides are well known.
but he is a brilliant soldier, and I have no doubt that God sent him to us, from
Prussia. That's what matters to General Washington.
Why are you so agitated? The agitation stirred around her,
heated and confusing.
He then turned his head, fixing me with his gaze. —Do you expect to survive this?
adventure, Deborah?
I was so surprised by the question that I just stared at him, but he
he gave me his own answer.

—I don't think you know. I believe that is part of the reason why you are so
damn brave and so damn competent that it stuns me. I have you
observed for over a year, continuously doing things that
would terrorize anyone, not to mention a woman who had never before
seen or participated in a battle. But you don't seem to be afraid of anything. I think that
it's because you expect to die, and you are at peace with that ending.

I have survived until now because I have had your protection for a long time.
part.

He shook his head, rejecting my answer. —No. That is not true. Don't you
gives the sufficient credit, and that is not an answer.

I tried again, with all the sincerity that I was able to. —From the beginning
when I saw the naked men on the whipping post and tied together to
being dragged to the prison ships - I decided that I would end my life before
allowing me to be captured or publicly exposed. I would rather die. In
As for the end... I don't think about it. I don't want to think about it. I'm just here. In
this moment. And I do everything I can to not think about anything else.

He began to shake his head, first slowly and then more firmly, without
stop looking at me. —I can't keep doing this —he said.
—General?
You are so disdainful of your own life, so little concerned about your own
security — he clapped his hands on the desk. — Well, I can't continue. I have
lost Elizabeth. I will not lose you. And I can't keep doing this —he repeated,
scoring each word.
You are angry with me, I summarized, disheartened.

She covered her mouth with the palm of her hand, holding her cheeks as if she
was holding back. When he spoke again, I could barely hear him behind the
hand.
I am angry because I shouldn't feel this way. I am angry because I do not
I should need you. I'm angry because you are here, and I know you shouldn't be.
I should have sent you to Lenox a long time ago. But instead, I have
kept here with me.
I want to be here with you,
That doesn't make it better - he roared. - Damn it! - he pushed everything he had.
on his desk, pounding it like a big bear. His inkwell shattered against the
the wall and his accounting book slid to the floor, with the pages
esparcidas.
 I got up and walked briskly toward the door, thinking that it would be
Better to withdraw. It was clear that I wasn't helping at all.

—Stop right now! I didn't fire you —she ordered, turning around.
on his table as if he had been shot from a cannon. I had never seen him so
exalted. John Paterson always controlled his temper and his words, and
both were applied with precision instead of passion.
I stood still, with my back to him, my hand on the doorknob. He crossed the
he walked into the room in three strides and slammed his hands against the door, his chest
against my back.

—No quiero que te vayas —dijo, y su ira se había convertido de repente en

anguish.
Then I won't do it, I whispered, and for a moment we just breathed.
together, raspy inhalations and raspy exhalations, pressed against the door.
Then he pulled the tie that bound my hair and let it fall to the ground. He cradled my head.
between her hands and tangled her fingers in the strands that reached me up to the
shoulders, clenching them in his fists.
I didn't protest. I didn't breathe. I didn't dare to hope.

How is it that no one sees him? he asked, darkly, and dropped his forehead.
to support her in my head.

—See what, General? —I asked, serene. Calm. Pretending that nothing was happening.
nada.
How is it that no one sees you? -he whispered. -You, Deborah. Your skin. Your eyes. Your
mouth. The length of your neck, the wisdom in your words. You are an adult woman.
How is it that nobody sees it?

He was so close. His lips and his hands were in my hair, his length
pressed against my back, and I closed my eyes, trying to find my shield and my
strength. But I found nothing but naked longing.

—No quiero que me vean... que vean a la mujer —susurré. —Soy soldado del
continental army of Washington, and aide-de-camp of a great general.
And what else?
What do you mean, sir?
 Inhaló profundamente, como si reuniera sus propias fuerzas, y al exhalar
She asked: —Do you feel something for me, Sampson?

There was no point in denying it. It was there between us, the tension that I had
called connection. The knowledge that I insisted was trust. The
intimacy that I had convinced myself came from suffering
shared and having been about to escape. It coiled around my breasts and
It burned in my belly, and he knew it.

Yes, sir. I am in love with you.

The chill that raced through him raced through me. It was like cold water in my
dry throat, and I delighted in the relief of my confession.
So damn brave - he whispered.
He let go of my hair and I turned towards him, lifting my face towards his.
Eyes mixed triumph and torture. He pressed his forehead against mine, as if
I would like to distance myself from your thoughts, but then your mouth came down and your
lips caught mine.
It was not a sweet clasp of mouths nor an approval seal like the one that had been.
received from Nat. It wasn't a pursed kiss nor a careful alignment of our
noses. It was an immediate war, and it didn't matter that I hadn't fought like that before.
The kiss -if it could be called that- was as instinctive and rough as the first
Cry of a baby. We struggle with our mouths, a desperate duel of lips
and yearning, panting and chasing each other, holding onto one another, leaning in
and bending until my head hit the door, disconnecting us.
I gasped and he cursed, and immediately we separated. The general gave a
a step back, as if I had slapped him or had caused him pain unintentionally.
It was not pain; I had no name for what I felt.
We will leave in the morning for Philadelphia - he wiped the kiss from his mouth, and
I wanted nothing else but to get her wet again. I was swaying. Swaying and
sore.
And I will go with you, I insisted.

—Yes —he nodded once. —Yes. You will come to Philadelphia with me... as my assistant.
But I will fire you as soon as the situation is resolved there so that you don't have to
return to the highlands. It will be an honorable death. The war is almost over.
It's time, Samson.
 But... I want to be with you.

— No — he shook his head, vehemently. — No. I can't be near you.

I should never have allowed you to stay.

I had deceived myself. I had asked myself if I felt anything for him and I had.
confessed. Now I was being punished for it.
--I can't be near you... like this... never again --he whispered. --Clearly, not
I can be close to you.
You asked me how I was feeling —I shouted, distressed. — And I have...
ashamed.

—No. It's not that. I am ashamed of myself —his cheeks were flushed with
red and the tense jaw.
I feel like a lecherous person,
I like it. I do not trust myself. On one hand, I look at you and see value, competence and
strength. I see a valuable companion. A brave soldier — he choked on the
last word and the stain became deeper. He ran his hands over his face.
On the other hand, I only see Deborah. I see the line of your cheek and the flower of your
skin. I see the changing colors of your eyes and I want... —he paused and breathed
Deep. -I loved my wife -he said, sounding almost desperate. -I loved her.
everything about her. She was perfect in every way. And you don't resemble her at all.
Jadeé and he shuddered. It was the worst kind of rejection because he knew it was
truth.
I immediately wrapped myself in my achievements, in my triumphs, as always.
I had done it. The way I had always had to do it. I had had to
value myself and surpass myself because I knew no one else would.

I am as intelligent as she is, I argued. And I am capable... and strong.

I grabbed the elements from my endless lists. —I am... —my voice broke.
and I forced myself to stop, mortified.

— Yes. You are all those things — he replied immediately, even contrite.
-But I would never have looked at you like... like I do now. You wouldn't have been the
the type of woman that would catch my attention. Your eyes are too penetrating. You are
too thin. Too tall. Too... bold. And yet... I am...
her voice faltered as if she were searching for the right words, but I did not
I wanted to hear more.

Why are you telling me this? It's not like I didn't know it - I was about to
to cry, and I despised myself for it. I turned around, struggling with the doorknob.
As before, he was there, pushing the door to close it again, but I
he tightened me against his chest and rested his cheek on my bowed head. I did not turn in
his arms. I couldn't. My love howled and my back tingled, and the need to
scratching to free myself was dominating me.

Forgive me, Samson. Forgive me. I am a man still afflicted by a

wife who deserved more than what I gave her. I loved her. I will always love her. So looking at you
And feeling what I feel is... disturbing for me.
I would like to leave now, sir - I swallowed hard, with my eyes closed and the
hands in a fist, clinging to control with everything I had left.
--Deborah. Look at me. Look at me. I'm trying... to explain to you --she did.
turn towards him.
--Explain what?--I didn't lift my eyes.
I find you impossible, undeniable, irresistibly beautiful.
Indeed, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. And I cannot
keep it up.
Perhaps he intended for us to laugh together. He smiled and I cringed.
shoulders, but I wasn't in the mood to be the target of their jokes. And even less
when it came to the same taunts he had received from the brothers
Thomas for so many years. But when he let the words settle on me
Around, definitive and firm, I lifted my gaze towards hers. She did not smile nor did she look away.
We stared at each other.
The hated highlands have robbed him of his sanity, General - I said, but my
my heart had started to race and the need to cry had
intensified for completely different reasons.

Maybe —he whispered. —Because I am crazy about you. Crazy, in fact.

Crazy?
Beyond all reason. But what I am trying to say -very badly- is that I
I love you too.
 Are you in love with me? I asked, trembling.
I am in love with you. Desperately. And I fear that everyone sees it.
If he hadn't confessed his feelings to me -even so tortured and tangled
as they were-, I would never have dared to do what I did. I approached him, I
I stood on tiptoe and rested my cheek against hers. I didn't try to speak or seek her
lips; I wouldn't survive another kiss like that. Not now.
With my face pressed against hers, she protected me from her eyes, but not from her heart.
throbbing, and I wrapped my arms around it, clinging to it with all the devotion that
I had never allowed myself to express. To anyone. And his arms wrapped around me in turn.

We didn't talk. Our hands didn't wander. We simply stayed.

cheek to cheek, his breath tickling my neck, our
arms intertwined in a strong hug. And it wasn't until we heard some boots in
the hallway next door when he cradled my face in his hands, pressed his mouth
against mine once more and let me go.
He retreated to his desk and I answered the call that came seconds later.
Then, acknowledging Colonel Jackson, who passed by my side without looking at me twice.
sometimes, even though I had my hair tangled in my face.
We will depart for Philadelphia in the morning, Shurtliff,
Paterson from his desk. — Make sure we are ready. I don ’t know.
how long will we stay.
Yes, sir. When I looked back, the general was sitting, the colonel
Jackson was hiding it from my sight, and I left the room.
 Chapter 24

THE SUFFERING OF THE PATIENT

The four-day, 150-mile horseback journey to Philadelphia was remarkable

different from the march in which he had participated the previous year. The heat was the
just like the colors that lit up the valleys, the leaves changed and
the hills were warming, but this time I was riding alongside General Paterson, and the
the tension I felt was completely new. The general was careful not to look at me
never directly when there were others nearby, but Agrippa sensed the
immediate disturbance. He was riding with Colonel Kosciuszko, but sometimes
he would pull back or spur his horse forward, depending on whether he desired certain company or
a particular conversation. When General Paterson stood beside the
General Howe for a brief conference, Agrippa brought his horse close to mine.

Have you bothered the general again? Agrippa asked me, frowning.
He is not himself.
They are the constant riots.

He frowned. —No. That's another thing. He's nervous. And it's always when
You are close, I have realized. I asked him if he wanted to make a change.

—Agrippa?
—A trade. I'll take care of him. You take care of the colonel. He said that
It wasn't necessary. But I wonder if it is.
I fell silent, unable to protest, and Grippy saw my anguish.
You've taken very good care of him, she hurriedly added. If you didn't,
I would insist. The general is my best friend. He takes care of me. I take care of him. You do a good job.
work, Bonny. But sometimes people just don’t mix. Oil and
water
 —It's my leg —I said. —He has tried to give me less work so that I...
cure. I have discussed with him. I am fine. But he does not want to hear me.

—Huh —he bit his lip. —That sounds like him. Maybe that's it —he looked at me.
with a frown. —It would be better if you don't argue with him. He is a gentleman until the
spinal cord, but very strict with the rules. Once he has decided, it is done.
I knew it was true. John Paterson was a gentleman, and I had put him in
an unsustainable situation. I was breaking all the rules, and he was
being complicit. What was worse - and at the same time wonderful - was that he said he loved me, and
I spent hours traveling by his side in a state of horror, shaken by
that idea.
On the first night, I placed my sleeping bag as far away from theirs as possible.
I put his saddlebags near the opening of the small store. I was half.
terrified that he would walk all night to avoid me and alert Agrippa and
anyone who paid attention that something was wrong, but slipped in
when the camp was quiet and he took off his boots before stretching out on
the bed that I had prepared for him.

The next morning, I scolded him while shaving his face, conveying him
what Agrippa had told me. — He thinks that I have upset you. He says that you are
nervous every time I am close.
I am - she raised her pale blue eyes to mine, and I withdrew the leaf from
her skin in case the tremor of my belly turned into a tremor in my hand.
On the second night, he dined with General Howe and returned when the moon was
high. I had been waiting for the camp to fall asleep and the night to
I would go deeper to be able to retreat to the trees and visit the river. I got up.
and I prepared to sneak away while he watched me.

—Samson?
I need to wash myself, I said simply. And there are other needs that are
better to attend in the dark.
I will go with you and keep watch.

General...
He raised a finger and hissed through his teeth, making me shut up. —I will go with you.
 I waited obediently, pressing the washcloth and the soap against my chest.
while he was putting his boots back on. I had taken off the bandage from my chest.
in order to clean myself better and I only wore the underwear and the shirt. I did not
I would immerse; my clothes wouldn't have time to dry if I washed them.

I didn't have to tell him how strange he would find it that I was watching him.
but she crossed her arms and waited for me to step into the trees to do
my needs, and was still there, exactly in the same position, when I returned.
I am still amazed that you have endured for so long,
low voice. —I shudder when I think about what these last have meant for you.
eighteen months.
I chose to be here. Everything is easier when you choose it.
We walked to the shore, took off our shoes, and I rolled up my sleeves. The
the general took off his shirt and threw it over his boots. It was clear that
I had also decided to wash myself. I crouched by the water and wet my cloth,
suddenly hot and a little breathless. I proceeded carefully, washing under the
the folds of my shirt while the general splashed about without impediments. It was
muscular, large and slightly hairy on the chest, without an extra gram
around the waist. I glanced at him when he finished and turned to the
clothes that had been discarded, shaking off as he moved forward.

"It will just be one more minute," I murmured.

I will wait.
Do you want to move away? I asked him. I needed to wash my lower parts, and
doing something so undignified, even beneath the clothes, was more than I could bear
with him watching.

I heard him coming up the shore, squash a mosquito, and shake his shirt. It had been
a humid spring and a hot summer, and the water attracted the bugs. Me
I loosened the ties of my underwear and managed to wash myself below the waist without that.
I fell. It wasn't a bathroom, but it would suffice. When I finished and they took me out the
cloth, I turned back to see if he was still waiting. He was there, silhouetted and still, but
he turned upon hearing me climb up the shore.

I had damp clothes sticking to my skin, and my hair loose around my face.
The shirt was so wet that in some places it was transparent, and I covered myself.
my chest with one hand while my shoes hung from the other. I let them drop into
the grass and I put my feet in it, without bothering about the buckles, but when I
I was straightening up, my back was stiff and I was facing away. I ripped off my shirt,
separándola de mi piel. Había perdido el lazo del pelo.
"You must not let anyone see you," he murmured, his voice tense.

I didn't need to ask why.

He followed me to the store and closed the flap with trembling hands.
And then it caught up to me.

The ferocity of his hug lifted me off the ground, thigh to thigh, belly to
belly, chest against chest, and my shoes fell from my feet, landing with
silent blows.
Her mouth against mine felt immediately familiar and strange. I knew
the shape of her lips and the sound of her voice, the roughness of her breath and the smell of
his skin. I had studied his features in detail many times, but kissing was
something totally different, and we approached it in the same way we
we had approached before, frantically and furiously.
Dear God, Samson. What am I going to do with you? What the hell am I going to
to do? —it was a whispered moan against my lips, and he let his mouth fall towards
my throat, as if I needed to breathe or was struggling for control, but I couldn't
tolerate sharing your attention with that part of me, and I grabbed his face and returned to
bring your lips closer to mine.
I don't know how to do this,
I want to learn.
I felt his jaw clench under my palms, a battle to hold back, to
to savor.
Do you want to learn?
Yes. I want you to teach me.
He moaned gently, and I delighted in the sound.
Do as you please, he whispered.
I don't know what pleases me, I said, but he shook his head, rejecting my.
words, and the caress of her mouth, so soft and light, delighted me immensely.
 Yes, that's right,
Its warmth pleased me. Its texture. Its mere presence pleased me, and I touched
with my tongue his bow of Cupid to see if that also pleased me. And then
he savored me like I savored him, his lips sought and sipped, and I
I forgot to count the wonders and I matched them pair by pair.

I am convinced that nothing is as intimate as a kiss, not even the

union of the meats or the casting of votes. When the mouths commune, little can be done.
to hide, and I no longer had any desire to hide anything. Not from him.

His hands flexed and tightened my shirt, and his fingers danced underneath.
she, caressing the soft skin of my back. She caressed the curve of my hips and
the protuberance of the buttocks, and he ran his thumbs across the peaks of my breasts
unleashed, but when I thought that perhaps we would kneel and surrender to the
the increasingly intense drumming of our flesh, the general parted his lips
from my mouth, he encircled my wrists with his hands and pressed his rough cheek against
mine.

—Deborah, por favor. Por favor, ayúdame. No puedo hacer esto. No lo haré.
I immediately nodded and stepped back, hurt but obedient, and without knowing in
absolutely what I couldn't do. We remained in the sticky darkness,
breathing and fighting, and when he let go of my wrists, we separated and we
we took our hammocks. But when we had settled in, with the
eyes fixed on nothing and ears very attentive to each other, I spoke in the lowest voice
that the murmuring of the camp.
What can you not do, sir?

—Woman —he pleaded. —Don't call me sir. Not now.

I swallowed the 'Yes sir' that was bubbling on my tongue.

I won't put you on your back and I'll take you like a camp whore.
--he swore, his voice almost inaudible. --That is what I will not do --he tried to shock me and
punish both of us, and for a moment it worked.
"Are there whores in the camp?" I asked.
There are. You haven't been involved in the type of commitments that it
they would allow. The march to Yorktown was too fast. And you are infantry.
light, who leads the army. The whores follow behind. In reality, I am
worried about what will happen to them when all this is over. It has lasted so long that
It has become a way of life. Some of them have children aged six and seven.
years. They also follow the trail of the army. They have nothing to go back to.
--Just like me --I whispered. --I guess I'm already a camp slut.
Don't say that.
We were quiet for a while, but neither of us slept.
Have you ever needed their services?
Need? Yes. Participate? No. I wouldn't do that to Elizabeth.

Guilt and conscience pricked me. —John?

—Yes? —he sounded pleased that she had used his name.
What would Elizabeth think... of us?
Ah, Samson. Are you worried about that?
Yes, sir, I confessed.
It took a moment before he said anything else, and when he did, his voice was
thoughtful and the tension in him had relaxed.
Of all the things I torment myself with, that is not one of them. I have not
betrayed Elizabeth and you too. Elizabeth would approve it. She adored you.

— I adored her. I think I have loved you for a long time,

simply because she did it. Her love was in every line and mention, in
each letter.
He did not agree or argue, but simply waited for it to
it will continue.
But what if he hadn't died? What if he were here? I asked him.

--It's not —her voice was soft. —And it will never be again. Nothing of what
let's do it or stop doing it, it will bring it back.

I reflected so much on that truth that I thought it might have remained.

asleep.
I shouldn't love you like this, right? I asked.
 -Like what?
He loved Sylvanus. He cared for him deeply. And he loved Deacon Thomas, although
I didn't always like him. I wanted Nat, Phineas, and Jeremiah. I loved them all.
I loved in different amounts. Small piles and large piles. Not them.
I love in the same way. This feeling is new. It is a mountain, and it has fallen.
About me. I didn't know it would feel like this to love.
It doesn't do it, he whispered. God forgive me, but normally it doesn't do it.

I was not repulsed that the general spoke of whores.

Estaba hechizada.
The fact that he described the act so vulgarly should have
I shut down my romantic feelings. I knew that was their intention. Instead, I
I felt strangely affected. That they would wish me that way was something that I never
I had imagined for myself. And that the general desired me - a man whom I loved.
so desperately - it seemed miraculous to me. I couldn't think of anything else.

The next night, the general walked and I shuddered, waiting for him to
he returned. When the flaps separated long after the camp
she will calm down, I got up and went to meet her at the door, desperate for
to touch him and fearful that he would leave again as soon as I did.
You're still awake,
Yes, sir... yes, John.

He hit his chest with his chin, but he took my hand as if he couldn’t.
avoid it.
I want to kiss you again, I whispered, shamelessly in the dark.
I also want to kiss you again. I want to do much more than that.
I can't start that.
"You can," I said. "I mean... I want you to do it."
 —Deborah.
I'm not... physically... very feminine, I stammered. Does that bother you?

His growl was almost a laugh. —I think my body knew you were a woman,
even before me.

Jadeé. —Really?
I have been surrounded by men of all shapes, sizes, and beauty... or
the lack of her. Not a single time has my flesh focused on them. But I focused on you. I
it seemed strange, and it made me look again to determine why —shook the
head, embarrassed. —I have been cold. Hunger. So deprived of sleep that I could
had closed his eyes and dozed off standing. But not once has a man...
made my body shudder. Don't deceive me for long, just
that I didn't mind admitting it. My body knew it even when my mind did.
he refused to accept it.

Does that tremor happen near all women? I yelled, amazed.

No. It doesn't happen. But again... it has never happened to me a single time in the
proximities of a colleague. I have felt great admiration for many
men. Great affection. Even adoration for some heroes. Henry Knox, the
General Washington, Nathanael Greene. I looked at them with considerable fear, and he
fear feels a bit like falling in love. But not once have I wanted to touch
one of them or see how his mouth felt under mine.

I almost groaned out loud, and he turned to leave. —I thought I would hate kissing.
—I admitted hastily.
He stayed still. —Why?
I shook my head. It was impossible to explain. —Because... because... I thought that
It meant slavery. Property. I didn't know it would feel like this.

—Like what?
— How to fly... and transform myself... and to freedom. And I never thought that
I would like to... —I cleared my throat, searching for the right words.
—Want what? —she insisted in a low voice.
 I love you... you. All of you. My body wants yours. My skin wants your skin.
My mouth wants your mouth. You don't disgust me. I'm not disgusted. In truth, I have never
I have desired nothing so much in my life.

He smiled, with a smile so wild and wide that I thought he was mocking me. I
I covered my face with my hands and he pushed them away, with the glorious smile still on his face. And
he kissed me again, with his burning mouth, his hands spread out over my back,
my hips pressed against hers, and the shame I felt evaporated. We
we fell on the mattresses, side by side, and he kissed me until my eyes
they opened and my lips did not close, until my body resonated like a
lute with a single string, and I begged for relief.

What is this need? I gasped, trembling. You must help me, John.
I couldn't move and I couldn't stop moving. I couldn't breathe or stop.
to breathe. He found the pulse under my clothes, the place where everything originated from.
I yearn, and when I twisted in astonishment, he held me tightly, his mouth on mine.
mouth, his hands on my body, until the climb that had begun with his
kiss became a free fall, a weightless descent and a landing
miraculous.
Then he let me go, without bones and without sense, and threw himself out of the tent to the
darkness.

The night before arriving in Philadelphia, the general was so tired that
We swore that we would remain apart, and I kept my word, but he did not.
I can feel your eyes,
You can't.
I can indeed. And it's unsettling.
I will close them.

It will be of no use. You are unsettling - she turned to the side and traced my profile in
the darkness, dragging the tip of the finger from the hairline to the
heart. When his fingers reached the top of my breasts, he withdrew his hand with a
it hissed and rolled over his back, vibrating like a coiled snake.
I have a plan,
That's why you are a general. You are very good at making plans.
calm him down, but instead he gritted his teeth as if I were
provoking.
There is no privacy anywhere. At any moment, an assistant or a
official can enter. And I am in a state of constant... discomfort... when
You are close to me. My sister Anne and her husband have a house in Society Hill,
Not far from the city center. You and I will stay with her while
Let's be in Philadelphia.

My eyes opened wide in the dark.

Her husband is Reverend Stephen Holmes, from Pine Street Church
She took a deep breath. They don't have children and have a lot of space. Anne feels lonely.
most of the time. I will ask Stephen to marry us while we are there. And
You will stay with them until the war is over and I can come back for you.
Of all the things I thought I would insist on, marriage was not one of them.
they. I slowly sat up and he did the same, turning towards me, with the
bright eyes and a tight mouth.
But they haven't discharged me - I whispered, as if that were the most
important.
--I will discharge you. Honorably. It is within my authority to do so.
But my enlistment period is three years or the end of the war. Neither
At least eighteen months have passed. And I want to be where you are.
—No —his voice was firm. —You can't be where I am. Not like this. Not anymore.

I had thought that I would give in as I had before. Especially now,

when the goodbye would be unbearable. I was sure he would let me be
his side until the end.
You are a soldier under my command. You are my assistant. And it doesn't matter if I know who
You are. It matters who they think you are —indicated the camp, the men who
they slept beyond our canvas walls.
 They think I am Robert Shurtliff.
Yes. And I am in a position of authority over you. That is a
responsibility, not an opportunity. I have never sought positions of power or
Glory, and I can live happily for the rest of my life, however long it may be, without any.
of them. But that doesn't mean that I am not proud. Or that I don't care about what
what men think of me... or say about you.
He paused, and when he started again, his voice was riddled with
regrets. —But above all... if someone saw me with you, like this, with a young one
What is my assistant, what would that say about my relationship with my wife?

It was not the place I expected it to go, my breath was cut off and I
I was overwhelmed by guilt.

They would suggest... -her voice broke. -They would suggest... -she began again, more
determined. -That I stayed away from Elizabeth all those years and
that she died without me because I preferred another type of company. It would diminish her
sacrifice. And mine. I did not join this struggle to escape from Elizabeth. And I do not
I will not disgrace her or this cause by doing anything that would make people think otherwise.
that I did it.
His words, even as soft as they were, resonated like cannon fire, and by
for a moment I could only sit in silence, recovering, wondering if
I would hear again. I feared that if I spoke, I would scream or cry, unable to gauge my
volume, and the whole camp would hear my voice.

So you would marry me, I whispered. That's your solution.

Yes.
But... we will be separated.

—Yes. For a while.

I lay back down on the mattress and stared at the dark folds that
they were tapping the stars. For a moment, I wished I could float upwards, like
to do in my dreams, and leave everything behind. To see what I wanted to see. To go wherever I wanted.
And feel nothing but the immense stillness, without beginning or end.

I don’t want it to end—I lamented out loud, because that was the truth.
at the bottom.

—Si te casas conmigo, no tendrá que terminar. Nunca.

 I don't want the war to end," I whispered, and I forced myself to look at him.
eyes.

He stared at me, stunned. Hurt. But he didn’t understand it. The woman at the
What I thought I loved existed nowhere else but here.
Forgive me, I begged him. I know it's selfish. There has been too much.
sufrimiento. Tus hijas te necesitan. Y tú las necesitas a ellas. Pero... pero nunca
I will recover this time. This freedom. This life. And I will be Deborah Samson again.

I am in love with a woman who has no desire to be a woman.

he marveled, almost to himself. —My God, what a disaster.
That's not true. I wish to be a woman —my voice was small, and he mocked,
somewhat unconvinced.

I want to, I said, this time with more strength. I want to be a woman. I want to.
unleash my breasts and put on a fine dress. I adore beautiful things and fabrics
beautiful. I want to walk by your side and dance with you and... and... kiss your mouth and
to lie down next to you. I would like to have your children.

My cheeks were burning, but my voice grew stronger with every word.
I want those things. I don't hate being a woman. I simply hate that a woman cannot
to go to Yale or be a statesman or help draft a constitution. I hate that I can't
traveling to Paris without a husband or even walking alone down the street. I hate limitations
that nature has imposed on me, the limitations that life has imposed on me.
Pero no odio ser mujer, y no odiaría ser tu mujer.
Suddenly he was there, lunging at me, his hands cupping my
dude, your vote abandoned again.

—Then you will marry me. And we will put an end to this farce.
But...it's not a farce,
He wilted, with his back hunched as if he had been whipped, and leaned on the
faced in my chest, defeated. I wrapped my arms around his head and we remained
several minutes in silence, with my heart beating against his lips. My longing
what was offered to me was as fierce as my imminent loss.

— And Robert Shurtliff will simply... disappear? — I whispered, faltering.

He raised his head and looked at me intently.
 Yes. My sister will help us. Robert Shurtliff will go to her house. And he will not return.
to go out.
Hidden.
His hands clenched my jaw and his thumbs moved across my
lips, as if I wanted to erase my reservations.
I'm not hiding you because you embarrass me. I'm hiding you because I want to.
a life with you. I can't have a life with Robert Shurtliff.

—And then what? After you have made me disappear... then

what?
He gritted his teeth in protest at my description, but he did not dispute my point.
from view. —When I have been relieved from my command, we will go to Lenox.

—Oh, John —I lamented.

"What, Deborah? What?" he was getting more and more angry.

I don't think you understand it,

What is it that I don't understand? he replied hissing. Do you think I don't know?
exactly who are you?
I closed my eyes and breathed for a moment, allowing myself to delight in her.
affection before warning him to leave. —In Middleborough, and probably
also in Taunton and Plympton, Deborah Samson is the laughingstock. No one knows what
what I have done, but they know what I tried to do. They know that I put on clothes of
man and I tried to enlist. They know that I drank too much at Sproat's tavern, and
that my name was removed from the lists of both churches.
She smiled and threw her beautiful head back, laughing silently, but her
the smile faded upon seeing my anguish.
Perhaps it is you who does not understand, he murmured. You won't have to come back.
Never. You will come home with me. You will be Deborah Paterson. You will be my wife.

But I will never stop being Deborah Samson. Eventually someone will do the
connection. It is the same neighborhood, after all. People will talk about Deborah
Samson, the woman who dressed as a man and tried to join the regiments. The
men I have served with will find out. The people in Lenox will find out, and I
They will reject. They may reject you. They could reject your daughters.
 This made him reflect. He looked at me intently, suddenly disconsolate.
Have I not given enough for my country? -she asked. -Should I not have anything
for me?
-Haven't your daughters given enough? Do you want your daughters to have me as
Mother? Do you want your family to have me as a sister?
—Yes —he replied. —Yes, I want to.

Oh, John. You don't have to do this. I'm not your responsibility.
Is that what you think it is? Do you think I am being selfless? Do you think
Why do I feel responsible for you? —he stretched over me, his enormous body
covering mine, his arms resting on either side of my head. I couldn't
breathe, I couldn't escape and I didn't want to. He kissed me then, sucking me
the lips as if they wanted to tear the submission from my throat.
--You do it-- I gasped against his mouth. --You feel responsible.

—Deborah —she warned, stepping back enough to shake her head. —Let go
this.
It's an admirable quality. And I understand it — I wrapped my arms around him and
he buried his face in her neck, caressing the hollow he had longed to kiss
hundreds of times. It tasted of leather and salt. It tasted like him, and I loved him so much that he was everything I

what I could do to not sink my teeth into it and swallow it whole.

It moaned in my hair. — So it is very good that you assumed all the

responsibilities. It's not something you constantly carry more than what
you should be able to carry it, you've done it your whole life, and you've done it well. You
I want, desperately, but is it somehow wrong if I also feel
responsible for you?
All I need is for you to love me.

She leaned back on her knees, breaking my embrace, depriving me of

its weight and its pressure, its flavor and its warmth. And it looked at me with disdain.

It shouldn't be. It shouldn't be enough for you, Samson. Certainly not.

it is enough for me.

I approached him, but he shook his head as a warning. —Stay

there, damn it.
 She brought her hands to her hair and closed her eyes. She was convinced that she was praying.
although he did not move his mouth or tilt his head.

We will get married,

General...
You will marry me, Déborah Samsón. God help me.

—Is that really what you want? —joy and restlessness filled my
chest. —Really?
I have never wanted something so much in my entire life.
 Capítulo 25

THE NEED THAT FORCES THEM

We arrived on the morning of October 3rd, one thousand five hundred men from four
regiments, along with General Howe and his aides, only to find out that
that the rebels had dispersed and the conflict had ended.
We rode to the city to inspect the damage, but we left the troops behind.
camps on the outskirts of the city. I would have liked to explore, but the
the general was immediately drawn into the meetings, and I attended by his side,
amazed by her patience and the respect she inspired.
The commander has asked you to stay in Philadelphia, Paterson, and lead the
trial and judgment of the great responsible ones —General Howe informed them.
time to eat. — You are a lawyer, after all, and we all respect your
prudence. It will not be as hard a task as the previous one. These soldiers have not
won the compassion that others have. They are all new recruits, none of the
those who have suffered years of work and hardships. They must be listened to, punished
quickly and dispense with them.
I will return to West Point with our men the day after tomorrow. As soon as possible.
Let's depart, better. The hospitals are full of yellow fever, the barracks of
the city center has become a temporary pavilion, and not
we need to add one thousand five hundred soldiers to an already overwhelmed system.

Colonel Kosciuszko lived in Philadelphia and invited us to stay with him until
that would conclude the process. He will not return to West Point. The grand lobby had been his
final project, its preparation had expired and he was excited to return to the city
that I had called home for twenty years. I had asked Agrippa to
she would remain in Philadelphia with him and continue to be his personal chambermaid, but
Grippy was indecisive.
Kosciuszko lives in Society Hill, Agrippa told me. An elegant place.
Elegant people. The colonel has money in Poland, although you would never know it.
When the British took the city in '77, I thought they would burn everything.
neighborhood, but the house is hers again, except for some treasures, and it has great
plans. I suppose those plans include me.

He sighed and rubbed his brown cheeks, mulling over the decision. —The general
Paterson says it's my choice. I've been there once, but actually not.
I want to make it my home, no matter how well the colonel treats me or how much.
that he wants his cabin help. But it is better than the barracks, and
better than a store while we are here. He has also invited the general to
stay at home.
But as he had planned, General Paterson politely declined the
invitation.
My older sister also lives in Society Hill. She is waiting for me and the
Soldier Shurtliff. We will stay there until the matters are resolved in
Philadelphia. But Dr. Thatcher will assist at the temporary hospital of the barracks until
let's go back to Point. I'm sure he would appreciate an invitation,
"Colonel," added General Paterson. He simply patted Grippy on the shoulder and
he reminded her that the decision was hers.

You will always have a place with me, Agrippa Hull. Your room in the House
Roja is yours for as long as you want.
You have Bonny,
be useful.
The general said nothing more, although he hesitated as if he wanted to speak. Instead
from that, we mounted our horses, with the promise to return in the morning,
he and I walked down the streets towards the colorful rows of houses
merchants and businesses that lined the busy docks. We passed by a
car full of sick people in different states of distress. A woman, blushing and
moaning, held a child who was already dead, and a man was vomiting from the
heaving, splashing the cobblestones with the contents of his stomach.

The owner of a store grumbled as he passed, throwing a bucket of water over the
vomit, diluting it, and continued with his day. The city did not flinch and the businesses
they continued. Perhaps the fact that yellow fever was not
contagious, but Philadelphia had experienced one convulsion after another, and no
the place in the country was more prepared for everything to come to an end.
 The general dismounted in front of a dressmaker's shop in Elfreth Alley and
he tied his reins and mine to a hitching post while I slid out
of Common Sense.

—General? —I asked, my eyes wide open. We hadn't talked about

none of this.

You can't get married in your uniform on —he said softly. —I'll say that the
purchases are for my wife.

I lost my breath. —I'm still waiting for you to pinch me like you used to do.
the brothers and tell me that it’s all a big joke —I murmured, but his gaze
estaba llena de desafío.
You must get everything you need. Shoes, stockings, a dress... several.
dresses, I think. A closet —he frowned. —I don't know exactly what that
implies.
I didn't know either. I knew the fabric and the quality, but I had never bought it.
nothing in a dressmaker's shop. Mrs. Thomas and I had sewn ourselves.
our own dresses, but I followed the general inside.
"I will not accept continental dollars, sir," the gentleman warned as
we entered your establishment.
John nodded, as if he expected the same, but the statement tightened his mouth.
It was not the shopkeeper's fault that the paper had no value, but it reinforced the injustice.
to pay the troops in that currency.
I need a ready-made outfit for a tall, slim woman," said the
general.
How tall and how thin? We would have to do a test, sir.
The general frowned and I returned the gesture. —It’s not possible. We will be in the
city for a short time. Her maid can make small repairs, but she needs
a formal dress as soon as possible. And maybe two more dresses that I can wear for
the house.
The shopkeeper stroked his chin as if he were deep in thought, but his
eyes shone.
A ship captain ordered a wardrobe for his new girlfriend. He gave me a
deposit. I brought the woman for a fitting. She was tall. And thin. But with a little
to the chest —he brought his hands to his chest and bounced them, as if measuring their weight.
I was amazed at how differently the men spoke to each other when they thought that
There were no women present. The general blushed and the man lowered his hands.
But the captain and his girlfriend died of yellow fever. His ship remains
docked at the port — shook his head sadly, but the shine remained
Present. —I will sell you everything, sir. For your lady. And I will make all the arrangements.
free.
There is no time for your arrangements. I'll have to pay someone to do it.
do it —replied the general. —And my wife is a lady with demanding tastes.
I was about to huff, but I managed to control myself.
We will have to see the dresses," the general concluded.

The store owner shrugged and began the bargaining. He opened the
trunk, its contents were discovered - velvet, lace, stripes and bows - and an agreement was reached
price. Shortly after, I followed General Paterson out of the store, like
new owner of a wardrobe worthy of a captain's wife.
They would deliver it to the Society Hill address in less than an hour.

John had sent a message to his sister as soon as he arrived in Philadelphia, with
instructions for the messenger to wait for his response. Anne Holmes had
responded with effusive cordiality and welcome, according to the general.

"What did you say?" I asked as we climbed the hill lined with houses.
noble and beautiful carriages that were just a few minutes, and a lot of money, away from
the stores near the dock.
I told him that I was in Philadelphia and that I was going to marry a young woman whom I
I have known for many years. A family friend. I asked her if Stephen
he would celebrate the wedding. He is used to these things. He was a chaplain of the
army at the beginning of the war.
And did you ask him if we could stay?

—No tuve que preguntar. Ella insistió.

 Oh, John, I sighed. I don't feel very well.
Cheer up, Samson —he said softly. —And I really like it when you call me
John.
Anne Holmes did not wait for us to knock on her large black door, but
he flew down the driveway and threw himself into his brother's arms
before I had even slipped down to the floor. I took the reins of
the two horses and I remained still until a servant came out of the house, and took away
the horses around the house to the stables, promising to take away our
saddlebags and have them taken to the general's quarters. No
he didn't ask me my name or my condition, and I turned to the general and his sister,
who accompanied him to the house, chatting all the time.
I've been beside myself with excitement since I received your email, brother.
Everything is in order. Stephen has access to the church, as you know. You will stay here.
tonight, of course. And for as long as you need. The servants have been
warned, although I see you have your assistant. The reverend and I depart to
first thing in the morning towards Trenton. I’m so glad you came
Today! I would have missed you. The house will be yours, but..., when will we meet?
to Miss Samson? How nice that you met Elizabeth. That will make it better for the
girls. Do they know?
No. No one knows it, Anne. Only you. I will tell you everything. But let's go in.

He waited for us to settle in the living room, where they had just served tea.
I was hungry and terrified, and I sat at the end of the sofa. The cup that
Mrs. Holmes gave it to me, it rattled in my hands and I immediately left it on the
ground. She didn't seem to notice. I took a bite of a cookie and it became
powder in the mouth. I made another attempt with the tea and managed to splash my coat and fail
on my lips.

—Deborah? —John said quietly.

I looked up into their eyes and realized that they had said my name.
more than once.
Yes, sir?

—Deborah Samson, this is my sister Anne Holmes. Anne, she is Deborah.

Her sister looked at me, puzzled, and her cup started to rattle as well.
on his plate.
 Have you lost your mind, little brother? -he whispered. -You said you were going to bring
a woman. Paracasarte. Who is this boy?
This is Deborah Samson, my field assistant, and my future wife.
I took off my tricorn hat and pulled at my hair tie, but it wasn't.
sufficient. Like all the others, Anne Paterson Holmes simply saw a
boy with thin cheeks and a square jaw dressed in military attire. That I
If it were anything else it was too impossible to believe.

She really moaned, poor woman. —John. I don't understand. Do I have to dress
Is your assistant like a woman... or is your assistant dressed like a man?
I did not flinch. I had learned not to do so, but for the first time since that
I had started my search, I regretted that she couldn't see it.
I am Deborah Samson, Mrs. Holmes --I said softly. --It is a pleasure
to get to know her. I may be lacking practice, but I am indeed a woman. I would appreciate it
all the help you can provide me. I haven't worn a dress in a long time, and
I have never been especially good with my hair.
Her mouth formed an incredulous O and she looked from me to her brother and vice versa. - What
Are you plotting, John Paterson? This is not like you.

—No. No es propio de mí. Así que te pido, querida Anne, que confíes en mí.
I don't have much time, and very little is mine. I would like to marry Deborah.
before the day ends. And Reverend Stephen Holmes, blessed be his righteousness
heart, will not celebrate the marriage if my future wife wears panties.

She moaned again. —Stephen! What will Stephen say?

—Anne —the general's voice was sharp, and he leaned forward on the sofa,
demanding your attention. —Help us. I have come to you for a reason. There are few
things you haven't seen and I trust no one more. You have been a patriot until the
marrow. From the beginning.
He exhaled slowly, his eyes clung to his brother's face and then to the
mine.
Do you trust her?" he asked.
I have known her since she was a girl.
 That's not an answer, John, she argued. You know what many...
We spent in this city with Benedict Arnold and that terrible young lady.
Shippen. I had known her since I was a little girl. That doesn't mean anything.

When the British withdrew from Philadelphia in '78, Benedict Arnold was
he assigned the military command of the city. Shortly after, he had married Peggy.
Shippen, a young woman from high society belonging to a wealthy family.
loyalist who, it was believed, had encouraged and even organized his desertion.
Arnold was ambitious, arrogant, and selfish, but she was a snake.
maleducated — continued Anne Holmes, vehemently. — They brought the city to the
bankruptcy and they sold us. So I will ask again. Do you trust this woman?

—Yes. I trust her —John said. —And I need you to trust me.

--What is this? --Anne Holmes asked me, furrowing her brow with
displeasure. She took the band that I had put around my chest. It was
frayed and dirty at the edges, almost unrecognizable in its current state.
It's a corset, I said. I was in a bathtub full of all kinds of salts and
essences, with every inch of my scrubbed, pink, and naked. As soon as Mrs.
Holmes decided that he agreed, clenched his jaw, and launched himself at me.
transformation with a vigor that rivaled my own.
Half of one?
Yes, ma'am.
He had demanded that I speak, and I spoke, stammering as I poured water.
through my head and blushing from head to toe as I examined the scars
from my leg and the long gathered line of my arm. He did not allow anything to remain
without examination and I endured it all. John had been sent to prepare, and not
could save me.
The trunk of the dressmaker had also arrived, and Anne had investigated until the
last piece, murmuring to himself.
 We will have to redesign them. They don't look good at all. Maybe if we remove the
flyers and the bows and we will redo the sleeves —he reflected. —You are angular and your
traits are bold. You need solid colors and simple lines. Nothing that
compete. You don't need to disguise yourself or hide. You have to be... —she frowned,
looking for the word. —You have to... show yourself. But this will help.

The dress she held was a bright colonial blue, not very different from
blue from my uniform. It even had golden buttons that marched in rows
parallel in front, down to the ground.
You will have to wear a petticoat. It's not long enough, but with lace.
white on the neck and on the sleeve openings will be useful.
I had nothing to add, so I got out of the water, dried myself with a
towel and I let them start the preparations. Anne called two maids and me
They grabbed, pinched, tortured, and annoyed from head to toe for hours.
You are slender, but with such beautiful shapes, and magnificently tall.
We will make it even higher. In France, they dust their faces, but it grosses me out.
Tienes una piel hermosa y unos ojos asombrosos. Te pondremos colorete en las
cheeks and on the lips, just a touch, and we will style you high.
I didn't argue and she didn't ask for permission, but when she declared me ready, she dismissed
his servants and led me in front of the mirror, I was astonished by it
result.
I can't breathe - I said.
I don't either. You are amazing.
No. I can't breathe. This corset is too tight on me.
You are not supposed to breathe. You are supposed to slurp.

A sip?
Yes, dear. Suck in the air. Don't you remember? You've been wearing a tourniquet.
around your lungs for a year and a half. This should be easy in
comparison.
I could be a better soldier than woman, I said, trying to do what
she advised me.
 A woman is not a corset, nor a gown, nor a bunch of curls. You have always
She has been a woman. And a remarkable one, it seems.

Her statement left me astonished, given our bizarre introduction. I

He looked in the rearview mirror and gave me a small smile.
My brother doesn't do anything without thinking about it a lot. He thinks things over and over.
Once. Then decide, and that's it. But he/she does not decide to do anything that he/she has not settled.
in his mind. If he does not doubt you, I cannot doubt you either.
It's extraordinary - I whispered. - And I don't know why he loves me. But he loves me.
--I shook my head. --So here I am.
He laughed and turned around.

So here you are. And here we go.

I can ’t make him integrate, brother. It ’s too high,

Anne while we were going down the stairs. John was waiting for us below, in uniform.
in gala brushed and the shining epaulettes.
Me miró boquiabierto, con los labios entreabiertos y la cabeza ladeada, y yo
I would have hidden if I had been able to choose. My stance was dictated by the
belt around the waist and the two bars on the back.
It's a beauty,
'Beauty' is a dull word,
to set my gaze.
—What if they see us? —I worried. —What if someone recognizes me?

Anne laughed and John shook his head.

Tonight you will be by my side as Deborah Samson. This is how you
I will present. That is what you are.

And why would you be with someone like Deborah Samson? What issues
Do I have it here?

You are an old family friend. Close to my late wife. A

a descendant of one of our founding fathers. And in an hour, you will be.
my wife. That is your business here.

But... what if someone recognizes me? I insisted again.

 Do you recognize him/her?

—As your assistant. Like Robert Shurtliff!

Anne reassured me. —They won't do it. Being a beautiful woman and dressing up as
a sixteen-year-old boy, that's the difficult part. This will be easy.

—This is not a disguise —John touched my cheek and stepped back again, very
aware that his sister was watching us. —This is real. No one will look at you and
You will see something else besides Deborah Samson.

—You keep saying that. It's not true —I whispered.

"Which part?" intervened Anne.

I am not pretty. That's why Robert Shurtliff was so believable.

—It was believable because it was crazy to believe otherwise! —exclaimed Anne, but the
the general shook his head.
Your beauty, even as a child, was remarkable. Why do you think everyone calls you
Bonny? —John asked.
—Because I didn't let my beard grow. He said mockingly.
It’s because you were -you are- attractive. And not even a continental uniform and
a bold gaze could hide it. But no one will look at you tonight and see
Robert Shurtliff. No one but me. And I adore that guy.

I didn’t have to worry. We didn’t see anyone on our brief walk.

to the church on Pine Street, just a few minutes from the Holmes' residence, and no
there was no one inside, except for the reverend. The church was a brick building with
columns built before the war and destroyed during the occupation
British. First a hospital and then a stable, the structure had been reborn and
renamed, according to Anne, although it was now empty except for the candles that
they blinked and danced. Reverend Holmes, a middle-aged man with
deep brown eyes and a resonant voice, greeted us with a smile for his wife and
a handshake for John. I don't know what they had told him, but he was very
aware of what they hadn't told him.

—Stephen, this is Deborah Samson —the general introduced us, and the reverend.
he tilted his head in greeting and took out a Bible, which we were told to
we would sign. Anne and the reverend signed as well.

So the banks without parishioners and the long windows with their new
Colored crystals were witnesses to a marriage so impossible and unlikely,
that seemed like one of my dreams.

But it happened. And we went. Man and woman. John and Deborah, although until then
In that moment, I felt that Deborah had barely existed.

And in the Apocalypse, this warning is given to us, the reverend intoned.
Holmes, and John smiled at me, looking into my eyes. It all had started with the
Apocalypse.
Write what you have seen, what it is, and what it will be after.
And I promised I would do it.

We had dinner alone in a room on the upper floor of Anne's house, and
although the dress made me feel beautiful and left John speechless, I did not
I felt absolutely sad when he helped me take it off.
And then she loved me perfectly and patiently, and I reciprocated with all the
fire and the strength that I had applied to all other aspects of my life.
You are not just Samson. You are Delilah,
about my skin. —How is it possible?
You are a good teacher, sir.
You can't call me sir when we're lying here without clothes.
Then I will call you my dear Mr. Paterson,
No.
 My dear general.
He leaned on his arm and rested his thumb on the tip of my chin and
a kiss on the forehead. —Better. But no.
I always thought of you as the John of Elizabeth.
I immediately hated myself for it. I had gone straight from soldier to
wife, and she had never been a flirt.
He kept a sad silence, although he did not leave. —You are not very good at this.
part —he said.
I will be - I swore fiercely, and the sadness rose with the corner of his lips.
There is the Samson I know. Tied up and determined to excel in everything.
I pulled him from his body towards mine, desperate to practice.

How are you dear John? - I suggested against his lips.

Dear John implies there is an un-dear John. I want to be your only John
—he whispered, persuading my flesh to surrender to him once again.
—My only general.
—Samson... please —she begged.
—John —I said, filled with satisfied surrender, and he shuddered upon hearing it.
 Chapter 26

LET THE FACTS BE PRESENTED

I hadn't slept enough. My skin ached and my chest felt tight. I

felt wonderful and terrifying at the same time, and missed the general with
an intensity that made my eyes cry. It had only been a few hours since I had
abandoned.
I have become ridiculous - I whispered, but my censure did not change in the slightest.
my feelings. I had become a new creature. Not Deborah. No
Shurtliff. Not in any intermediate version. I was a woman. A wife. A
prostitute? I nodded. Yes, that too. And like a snake shedding its skin.
of skin, or a bird coming out of an egg, it was not a totally complete experience.
painless.
John gave me a farewell kiss at dawn and got up, washing his
teeth and fixing his hair, demanding that I stay in bed.
You are not my assistant, Deborah. Not here. Not now.
I ignored him and picked up the shaving utensils to shave his face. He pulled me towards his
she hugged me and wrapped her hands around my hips, and when I finally finished the task,
we were both splashed with foam, and the front of my nightgown
new was soaked with their kisses.
It's a miracle that I haven't torn you to pieces, I murmured against his lips.
I put the knife aside and continued with the nightgown, and when the general left
finally the beautiful house of Society Hill, I had become totally and completely again
skewers.
I'll be back this afternoon,
we had resolved the details of my resignation, but I was too exhausted to
do something else but murmur: —Yes, sir.
—John —reminded me.
 Yes, my dear general.
I fell asleep again with the sound of hooves on the cobblestones, my last
thought about him. When I woke up again hours later, a maid
I had prepared a dress and underwear, as well as a pair of shoes.
too wide and too short. The fact that it had entered into the
room without waking me lit up my cheeks and amazed me even more. No
it was me absolutely.
I put on the clothes, including the corset, although I didn't tie it as tightly as Anne did.
I was blushing, in pain, and hungry, but when I sat down to have tea at
Anne's living room, I realized that I couldn't eat.
I forced myself to swallow a few bites, knowing that I needed strength. I was
alone in the house, except for the servants, and I went up to the room that John and I had
shared. My uniform had been washed and was hanging in the closet, my
polished boots, my brushed hat, as if I had my own assistant.
What was he going to do with me? I was tired, but lying down again on the...
bed and spending the day sleeping was such a strange and unpleasant idea that it
I dismissed it immediately.

When we had crossed Philadelphia on our way to Yorktown, the dust of

the army had blocked my view, it had gotten into my teeth and had
eyes covered, and had been unable to assimilate the wonders of the famous
city. I wanted to walk, explore, and I couldn't roam the city alone. Not dressed
I would need at least one companion, and I didn't want a stranger.
walking behind me.
But if I wore my uniform, I could go wherever I wanted. Alone.
I didn't think about it for more than a few seconds. I took off the dress and the sweet one.
underwear. My corset split in half was nowhere to be found. I frowned the
I sighed and looked around the space. I didn't want to destroy what they had provided me.
In addition, I didn't have scissors or needle and thread to make the adjustments.

I put on the uniform without my tie, and with the vest, it was barely visible.
chest. But I didn't dare to take the risk. The blue sash that I had put on the night
I could serve it earlier. I wrapped it tightly around my chest, crossing it.
from the front and from the back, until I am bandaged from my armpits to my ribs.
When I put on the shirt and the vest over it, the effect was much more.
convincing.
 I slipped out the front door without seeing anyone, and kept walking, so
dizzy from my freedom and solitude as I had been in the days following
leaving the Thomases, walking through the countryside without any plan beyond the
enlistment.
But the joy didn't last. I didn't feel good at all. I looked for a place where
rest for a moment and my vision became blurred. I uncovered my canteen and drank.
deeply, filling my belly with water. Almost as soon as I stopped, the
water rose again in a bilious torrent, and a woman screamed and pointed.
The soldier is sick with a fever. Run to get the ambulance.
" shouted a shopkeeper and another cursed.

I touched my face. I was not sick. I did not get sick. I never had.
I was sick, except when I had been shaken on a boat on the way to the
Chesapeake Bay, and that was not disease. But the heat radiating from my skin
it was undeniable. I turned in the direction I had come from, my only goal
it was getting home to Anne's without throwing up again, but I had barely taken ten steps
when the world tilted, turning me, and everything turned black.

I was dying, or maybe I was dead. It wasn't what I expected from the
death. I was in the damp and filthy room with the rows of others
men who were also dead or dying, and then they were no longer there.
It flickered like a candle struggling against a current of air. Beyond the
pain, but no more than feelings, my mind wavered between my lives, to the
who was holding onto me, and the one I had lived before. Two men were fighting over my
boots.
Those won't look good on him. He's just a child.

Well, your clothes don't fit either of us well. Too much

thin. It's a shame. They look new.
Agrippa had insisted on the new uniform. If you are going to be the assistant of the
General, you can't go dressed in rags.
 Would I see the general again? That thought filled me with horror, but
I was too weak to react.
How would I find myself? Would I want to do it?

The discussion about me faded away and I became ten years old again, riding on
the backs of a clumsy horse, with Reverend Conant protecting me from the cold.

I couldn't go back to Middleborough. I had embarrassed the Thomases. But there

I was there, and Reverend Conant was there too, although both of us were an impossibility.
I was dead. Maybe I was too. And then I was talking, his voice just like the
I remembered.
There will always be a place for you here, Deborah,
Where is here? I asked her.
This is where I am.
And Elizabeth?
Yes.

—And what about Nat, Phineas, and Jeremiah? Are they here too? —my longing
from seeing them enveloped me, and I saw the fields where we had run and the house where
we had grown, and the places that I had named and loved.
They are here, yes.

I could see the Thomas house, the smiling eyes of the windows and the door.
open, and to the boys who came out of the farm and the fields, greeting me and
calling me, and love overwhelmed me.

I got off the horse, eager to greet you, to reunite, to hug my

brothers.
They were all there, the loves I had lost: Nat, Phineas, and Jeremiah.
Even Beebe, Jimmy, and Noble were there, as if they too had
returned to the Thomas farm after falling in Tarrytown.
But John was not there. John did not run to greet me, calling me by my name.
name, with open arms.
I turned to Sylvanus, who still remained on his old horse, with the
threads in hand, looking at me with sympathy.
 —Don’t be afraid, Deborah —the reverend said gently. —You won’t be here.
mistreated - it was what had been promised before, so many years ago. And there had been
reason.
Where is the general? I asked.
He is not here. He promised to stay until the end.
But I am your assistant. I am your... wife. I can't leave you.
Then you must return. You must keep fighting.
— I will only bring him shame — I lamented, hesitantly. Weak. — Maybe it will be
better this way.

He shook his head. 'It's not better. Just easier. But you are a warrior.'
I am a woman,
"You are both things," he said, but I had already turned away, falling.
from the warm sunlight to the dark tunnel of intermediate space. My skirts are
they tangled around my legs, and the pages, like the torn ones from a
book, drifted in the murky green that suddenly surrounded me. I was not in the
Middleborough fields. I was at the port. I was drowning in the port with
Dorothy May Bradford, and she cried for her son. For her John. An indescribable cold.
slowed my thoughts and took my breath away, but I didn't fight. I simply
waiting, letting myself be dragged down, with my lungs screaming, with the light
struggling, unable to free myself.
I'm very sorry, John. Those were the words I had in my head, although
the voice was not mine. I added mine, succumbing to my destiny. Dorothy May and I
We were connected after all.
I'm very sorry, John. Forgive me. Forgive me.

I woke up with my heart pounding, my body stiff and sore, unable to

move me, but I was no longer in the sky nor at the port, although the room in the
What I found could have been hell. A woman was moving from a bunk.
to another, and I tried to shout at her, but I couldn't make any sound, not even
lift your head. The paralysis was the worst, the feeling that I was separated from
myself, that my body was not my body, that I was living another life or
even dying the death of another person.
A moment later, he stood next to me and said something.
So young. So handsome. Poor boy - she murmured, and the word 'poor' rolled off.
endearing way. He passed a hand over my eyes, as if he wanted to close them, and I
I opened them again. My eyelids fluttered and she screamed.

—Holy heaven! You're still alive.

When I woke up again, I was no longer wearing a uniform and was clean. The clothes
The bed was white and the sheet that covered me was crisp. I still had no strength.
in the extremities and hardly had a thought in my head, but there was
someone by my side and, when I wanted to turn my head, I saw two doctors who
They were conversing deeply. One of them was Dr. Thatcher.
They brought the soldier a few days ago,
the street. No one knew who he was beyond the uniform.

—His name is Shurtliff. He is one of ours —said Dr. Thatcher. His voice
It moved me, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. — Is he going to die, Dr.
Binney?

I have thought that he was dead several times. But... he... — the doctor
he seemed to struggle with the word and pronounced it reluctantly. - He is holding on.
I don't know how. It's strong, without a doubt.

What else can be done?

At this point... the soldier lives or dies. Only time and rest will
They will say. But sir... I must tell you what I have discovered. For... your own good.

I moaned, wanting to protest, but no sound escaped my lips. The

tears were escaping from my eyes and dripping down my cheeks, but I couldn't
raise a hand to dry them for me. I prayed for death or, better yet, for the
annihilation.
Soldier Shurtliff is a woman, Thatcher. She was wearing a garment for binding.
her breasts, and it seems to me that she suffered a quite serious injury in the thigh at some point
moment. He has a terrible scar. Someone extracted a bullet, but not with
skill. I wouldn't be surprised if she had taken it out herself. I don't know how.
has come this far without being discovered, but it is clear that she has done everything
possible by keeping the secret.
The silence filled the room and I thought that maybe they had left, or I had.
I had gone, that Robert Shurtliff had really died and I was dreaming. But
then Thatcher spoke elsewhere, as if she were strolling.
I can't believe it,
I examined her myself, Thatcher. It's as I say. The nurse who
found in the morgue caught my attention. I had them bring her here, to this
room, to give some privacy.
Thatcher seemed stunned, but Dr. Binney pressed on.
-Was he a good soldier, Dr. Thatcher? -he asked.

—Clearly, yes. Exemplary. He is the general's field assistant, for the

love of God.

—A field assistant? —shouted Dr. Binney. —Of a general?

Yes. General Paterson. He is in charge of all of West Point. He must be
informed. That is to say... if he has not left the city. General Howe left days ago.
with a full battalion.

—And what will happen to her now? —Dr. Binney was worried.
If he doesn't die... I don't know,
I can believe it. General Paterson must be informed. He will have to take that.
decision.
Please - I whispered. - Please.
Both men hurried to my side and Dr. Binney tried
help me to join, but I was unable to do anything other than bow
to one side, so he supported my head and poured a little water on me
cheek.
I have never seen anyone so sick with fever who has come back from it.
Dr. Thatcher.

— Dr. Thatcher — said Dr. Binney, reproaching him in a low voice. — She has
defied the odds so far. In every sense.
What is your name, ma'am? Dr. Thatcher insisted, looking at me. You must
tell me right now. General Paterson will find out about your duplicity. I will leave
let him decide what will become of you.

Please don't tell him/her - I said, and somehow I managed to form the
Words. —The general... did not... know it.
If Dr. Binney gave an answer, it was not audible, and I no longer cared.
Había terminado. Terminado. Y me dejé llevar, esperando que esta vez no
It would wake up. It would surely be better for John if I didn't wake up.
 Chapter 27

ALLEGANCE

I moved, but I did not fly, I did not rise unbound above the earth.
as I had desired. I heard wheels on cobblestones, the squeaking and the push.
immediately identifiable, as well as the man who was taking me.
Almost there, General. Almost there, called Grippy. It was night, or maybe the darkness
It was just the weight of my eyelids over the eyes that couldn't be opened.
--John? --the tremor of his arms and chest coursed through me. It was terror and
hope mixed with humiliation. He tightened his embrace and pressed his lips.
against my forehead.

—Wait, Samson.
Do you know... Agrippa... do you know?

Yes. He knows that you are my wife.

Oh, John. I'm very sorry.

Don't say that - her voice trembled with anger, or maybe it was shame. The
the darkness of the carriage left me guessing.

—Is it... Thatcher?

Yes. Thatcher told me where you were.
I can't go back to West Point,

—No —susurró. —Dudo que ninguno de nosotros pueda.

Forgive me, General, I pleaded. I just wanted... to stay with you.
Don't leave me, Samson - she whispered. - Promise me you won't leave me.
 He was able to form simple sentences. It was a great improvement, and I would have told him.
promised not to have fallen asleep again, cradled in his
trembling arms.

—John?
The weight of your hand was in my hair and on my cheek, caressing me, and I turned back.
cara hacia ella, buscando el roce de su palma y el aroma de su piel, y dijo mi
name. Every time I woke up, it was stronger, and every time I did, the
The general was there, attending to my needs.
He brought me a glass of water and insisted on giving me a bit of soup to eat and
even though I insisted that I could feed myself. The candlelight
I was blinking, I had lost track of time and desperately needed
a toilet, a bathroom and a little fresh air.
John refused to leave any of the tasks in the hands of his sister or
its servants. It was strange to lie naked in their arms without passion, and even more
strange that he washed me, dressed me and fed me, but he ignored my
protests, however weak they were.
When he wrapped me up again in our marital bed, he opened a window and
he/she sat next to me on the chair that had barely been left, I struggled against the attraction of the
exhausted dream and I took his hand. I needed an account of the events. I was
deeply dejected and I feared the worst.
—Tell me what happened —I insisted.

He took a deep breath, as if he too had needed to air out,

he/she started to speak.

Dr. Thatcher came to look for me on Wednesday night and told me that
you were in a hospital bed about to die. You could barely look at me when
She informed me that you were not what you seemed — he cleared his throat. — I was
shocked, and he misunderstood my... response... as surprise. I did not correct his
assumptions. He still thinks he didn't know it.

Praise be to God, I whispered. I feared you would confess everything.

 He fought for control and lost it several times, with his hand holding mine,
before speaking again. —He said you begged him not to tell me. Why,
Samson? Why did you do that?
I just wanted to... protect you,
side, with its large trembling shoulders, and moaned against the mattress to drown
the sound of his own torment. I placed my hand on his head, with the need to
to touch it, unable to do more.
I thought you had fled - she shouted. - I came back here, to Anne's house, and you weren't here.
Anne and Edward had gone to Trenton, and the servants did not know where you were. And
I was convinced that I had scared you. Your uniform had...
missing. I thought you had left too.
I don't get scared so easily, General - I tried to smile, to coax him into
she smiled, but did not raise her head.
Why did you leave?
I wanted to walk by myself. I don't have freedom in a dress. I didn't know.
that she was sick... really sick... until it was too late.
My father died of yellow fever, she whispered. It attacks quickly. He fell.
unconscious, just like you. And never woke up.
I'm very sorry, John - that was all I could say. And I meant it.
Desperately, I really felt it. I was so weak that I could barely
I wanted to move, but my mind was clear and I knew I would recover. I was not
sure that the general would do it. He had not raised his head from the mattress, not
I could see his eyes, and he radiated desperation.
My uniform has disappeared, I murmured. They took it from me, it was not the
more important, but it meant something deeper, something we had to
enfrentarnos. John tampoco llevaba su uniforme.
--No--he shook his head. --I have it. I knew you would want it. Grippy brought your
things. I took you. No one saw us leave the hospital, except Dr. Binney. He
I was worried about what would become of you. He is a very... decent... man.

The general had thought about recovering my uniform. At that moment, I loved him.
more than I had ever loved him, and the tears began to flow from
corners of my eyes and to wet the pillow under my head. For several
moments of silence, I fought against my emotions just as I had
I tied my breasts, wrapping them so tightly that they would never be discovered.
But those days were over and I had a new mission.
What will become of me? I asked after several minutes of heavy silence. And
What will become of you?

Finally, she raised her head. —I told Dr. Binney and Dr. Thatcher that I would keep watch.
for your well-being and that no charges would be filed. I felt it as a betrayal not
complaining to you... or explaining to me... but I didn't see any benefit for either of us
to make our relationship known or to expose you more.

I studied it, with wet eyes, almost without breathing. It returned my gaze,
grim, with a tense jaw.
I have taken care of the matters here in Philadelphia. My work here has
finished, and I have requested a thirty-day leave. But I will resign when
We'll finish. And we'll go to Lenox when you're well. If that's what you want. Is that what
What do you want, Deborah? Am I what you want? Or have I simply trampled your
wishes to achieve mine?
-Oh, John - I breathed. -You are the only man in heaven or on earth who
I want to. But you can't give up. You would never forgive yourself. And I would never forgive myself.
I would forgive.
"Why?" she gasped.
I will not be the reason you break your word. You made a promise to your
men. You promised that you would stay, until the end. You promised it to Phineas.
He got up from the chair, agitated, with turmoil in every step he took, and
he made a slow circle around the room, stopping to breathe in the air
nocturne in his lungs before returning to my bed.
It's clear that I've made more promises than I can keep. I made you
One made a promise before God nine days ago. And you were taken from me that day.
next. I can't leave you, I can't do it. Not now. I have no strength. And no
Can you come with me to West Point? Dr. Thatcher's discretion will only go so far.
up to a certain point. It will not remain silent if we try to continue as we have been.
the newspaper published something very similar to our circumstances today, although it does not
they used names.
Dr. Thatcher knew me as a child. He knew Deborah Samson. And yet,
Didn't you guess it?
 John negó con la cabeza. —No lo hizo.
So Grippy... is the only one who knows... everything?

Yes. He and Anne. She and Stephen returned today. I will let Anne take care of it.
Reverend, although at this moment, you only know that you have been sick.

Will Agrippa speak?

No. There is no one more loyal than Agrippa Hull, although he is still in a state
in shock. I think he feels a little... silly. And amazed. He says he should
had I known. He says he knew you were running away from something, just that he didn't know what.
Can you believe that I married you.

—Yes... well. He can't be more shocked than I am.

The general fell silent, studying me, taciturn.
Will he stay with you? Will he watch over you? I asked him. He can be of help.
assistant.
I can't return to the highlands,
Love was what he spoke of, not his duty, and John Paterson was nothing but brave. He knew what it was.
what I had to do. I just didn't want to do it.
You can. And you must do it, General.
His moan was more of a roar, a rejection of reality.
-There was a time when I wanted to be someone -he said. -When I dreamed -although
in a low voice - so that my name would be heard and my actions counted among the
men. Benedict Arnold also wanted to be someone. And he was - he spent the
hands through the loose hair and shook her head. —There will always be someone... that's the
strange. It has exactly what I wanted. It has a reputation. No one will ever forget the
name of Benedict Arnold.
God has a sense of humor, right?
It gives us what we ask for, she replied, nodding. All unjust desire and
foolish. So I have learned not to ask for anything. I didn't even ask for you. I just took
what I wanted. And look what has happened.

What happened, John? Tell me.

 No one will remember the name John Paterson, and I don't care in the slightest.
You know it. But the way I have served -the effort, the sacrifice, the time-
I have to believe that it matters, that everything matters. The glory is not mine. Not even
ours. Glory is what God makes out of our sacrifice. But you are a
a sacrifice I'm not willing to make. And He knows it. I can't lose you. ...and
I am convinced that is exactly what will happen.
I won't lose you. I would follow you anywhere.
Her eyes filled with tears and she clenched her hands. — But you can't follow me,
Samson. You can no longer follow me. You can't even stay here, in Philadelphia.
Do you understand?
Yes, I whispered.

I want to be with you. I want to be with you so much that I tied you to me so that
you couldn't escape. And yet... you almost died —he shook his head. —I do not have
the control here. Not at all. I have never had it.
— I am here, my beloved general — I told him, and his mouth trembled upon hearing that.
affectionate gesture. John Paterson had not been loved enough, and I approached
to him, eager to rectify the deficiency, but he took my hands and gave me a kiss
in each palm before letting me rest them on their cheeks.
I fear that the moment you disappear from my sight, I will never again
I will endure. But if I have to hold on until the end and do what I promised... - he returned to
shuddering as if it could barely stand it. —If I am to keep my word,
So I can't stay with you, and you can no longer be a soldier —he said.
I know. So I'll wait for you. For as long as it takes.
His shoulders slumped as if he had just granted her forgiveness. He rested his...
he pressed his head against mine and wrapped his arms around my waist. I stroked his hair,
enjoying their weight and the gift of another day.
I believe that some men and women have the blessing of seeing a
greater purpose, to understand the waves that extend far beyond
your own lives — I said. — That is what gives me hope, that all this
suffering will be worth something much greater than any of us. You are
one of those men, General. And I want to be one of those women.
 —Do you promise me? —she whispered. —Do you promise that nothing will happen to you? What
you will concentrate all that considerable power of Samson and you will remain alive and well
until we can be together again?
I promise you. And when all of this is over, I will be waiting for you in Lenox.

Grippy visited me before he and the general returned to the Point.

I was wearing a dress and Anne's maid fixed my hair, but when she looked at me,
with my brown eyes wide open and the hat in my hand, I felt
transported back to that first day at the Thomas's house and to the brothers.
openly sharing their unflattering opinions about my appearance.
"I'm still not much to look at, am I?" I asked. "Even with
dress. I've never been a pretty girl — I wanted to make her smile, but her eyes
illuminated.
I am a fool,

—Why?
I treated you badly. I mocked your appearance.

You treated me exactly how I wanted to be treated, like anyone.

another soldier from the Point. You were my friend.

We are friends, right, Bonny? -He let out a held breath. -Is that okay?
if I keep calling you that?

Yes, Agrippa. We will do it. And Bonny is fine with me.

That's fine then. I have to get used to Deborah. To Mrs.

Paterson shook his head as if the shock had not yet passed.
I lied to you about who I was, Grippy. I'm sorry. But I never lied about anything.
more.
The general told me almost everything - he shook his head again. - You are quite a
woman, Bonny. Didn’t I always say there was more to you than meets the eye?
 I nodded, and for a moment we were silent.
—Now you will go to Lenox. That’s good —he didn’t seem convinced. Neither did I.
I was convinced, but encouragement was not what I was looking for from Agrippa Hull. I needed.
promises.
You will take care of General Paterson, right? You will lift his spirits and you...
Will you make sure he eats and sleeps and comes back from those long walks he takes?
I asked.
Yes, ma'am. I will do it.

And will you protect him and his reputation from those who may have heard?
talk about me? — I added hastily. — I am not Benedict Arnold, but I do not
I will allow the general to be tarnished by my name. None of them. I
I clean up my own messes.
Her eyes softened and she started to smile. --Your secret is safe with me,
Bonny. Do you remember what I told you? You no longer have to be afraid. Now you are one.
of ours, and I protect mine.
 28

CONCLUDE THE PEACE

12 de junio de 1783
Dear Elizabeth,
The Lenox house is just as you described, even the flowers on the carpets and
the colors of the walls. When I touched the railing, I remembered how you
I liked to feel it under my hand while climbing the stairs.

The exterior is John, majestic and solid, with a classic appeal, but the
interior is a place created by and for women. John is not present.
present in the furniture or in the decoration, but its absence - eight years of
absence, marked only by brief permissions - is felt deeply.
You are here, in this house. You are present in the faces of your daughters. They are no longer
girls. Ruthie is nine years old. Polly is eleven, and Hannah is almost thirteen. Hannah is
high. When John said that it suited you, I thought it would be small. But she is dark-haired,
and long, and charming, and almost as tall as I am.

Ruthie looks like John, just as he said, although she is noisy where he is.
reserved and demanding where he is obedient. He is the soul of the house and wants all my
attention. Perhaps she, like Jeremiah, is the one who needs it the most. I think Polly is
the one that resembles you the most in appearance and behavior. She is determined to do it.
Everything is fine, but she has health problems. She is more determined because of that, and I have started
a enseñarle a tejer.
Poor John will return home to daughters who have grown up without him.

I miss him desperately, but I am starting to think that this is it.

better, because this time I have to adapt to their house and to their walls and to their footsteps
that still endure in the ground and in the hearts of their daughters. It makes me angry to think
that the general was right to come here, to Lenox. It's exasperating, isn't it?
Always making good decisions, always knowing what is best. One could
to say that his decision to fall in love with me was the only exception.
 We have returned to our preexistence, John and I, to the days when we used to write.
and we read letters. It is new and old, and mine and yours when it is on the page, but me
they have loved all the iterations of John Paterson.
I can see John in his mother and in his sisters, Mary, Anne, and Sarah. They have
the same pale eyes and generous eyebrows, lips in the shape of an arc and strands
reddish chestnuts, although Mrs. Paterson's hair is white as snow. They are
beautiful, well-made, and educated people, and they welcomed me with open arms.
They are also like him in that.

Anne and Reverend Holmes took me from Society Hill, in Philadelphia, to

Paterson House, in Lenox, Massachusetts. We took two weeks to travel on a
ridiculous carriage, and if I had not still been weak and tied up in uncomfortable robes,
I would have asked to walk or ride in Common Sense, which made the journey with me.

The general was responsible for many arrangements, both private and public. Morris,
Maggie and Amos Clay arrived in Lenox even before I did, with a letter in hand.
by John Paterson in which they were declared free men, along with a small
contingent of local soldiers who had returned and to whom it had been
tasked with escorting them there safe and sound.
Imagine my surprise when Morris came out to greet the Holmes' carriage.
day of my arrival. I confess that I cried when I realized what I had done.
general, and I subjected Morris to a hug, which he endured stoically, very
similar to how I did it when John hugged me for the first time.
The general had not prepared either of us for the surprise, but
when Morris saw me, he simply shook his head, saying: —Well. Maggie me
he said you were a woman, and the general's woman, besides, but I didn't believe him.
I should have known that Maggie would see the truth. Women always do.
The day I arrived in Lenox was disturbingly similar to the day I arrived in
Thomas's house. Both houses were overflowing with strangers who needed me,
and I had to find my purpose and my place. Now I realize that all
my life had prepared me for this. In many ways, you too have prepared me
you prepared.
Unlike when I arrived at the Thomas house, I had no experience in the
role that was expected to be played in the Paterson House. It had never been
wife or mother, and instead of putting me to work and assigning me a room of
service, they showed me a room that once belonged to you, a
room where all your belongings still remained, including your clothes in the
the dresser and the wardrobe.

I found my letters, from ten years ago, in a wooden chest at the foot of your bed.
It remains your bed. Your house. Your daughters. Your world. Even... your John, although from
some way it was also mine, even then. The letters are soft and
faded, as if you enjoyed them often. It was strange to see them all together,
how my writing changed and grew, lengthening with me.
Hannah caught me one night reading the letters next to your open chest and
called her sisters to demand that I "stop nosing around in her things."
"mother". I showed them my name at the bottom of each letter.

- Your mother was my first friend - I told him. - These are also my things.

Hannah stared at me distrustfully.

I used to write her letters. So many letters. And she would reply to me. She was a woman.
important, and all that I was not.
You look strange, said Ruthie. That's what grandma says.
Ruthie, that's not nice. You shouldn't repeat private conversations.
Polly replied.
-It wasn't private if we all heard it -Ruthie shrugged.
unrepentant.

Polly tried to mediate. —But strange is not bad.

--Grandma says you're eye-catching --Hannah admitted. --Aunt Anne says your
the aspect is disturbing.
John had said the same thing, but I didn't tell him.
Do you want me to read them to you? I asked. It was late and they should have been in their
beds, but I felt a miracle within my reach. A bridge between all
we. They sat around me and I read, starting with the first letter,
closed on March 27, 1771, which began like this:
Dear Miss Elizabeth,
My name is Deborah Samson. I am sure you have already been informed that
I am going to write. I am not an accomplished writer, but I hope to be. I promise you that
I will work hard to make my letters interesting so that you enjoy them.
reading them and allowing me to continue. Reverend Conant tells me that you are kind,
Pretty and smart. I'm not pretty, but I try to be nice, and I am very smart.
With each letter, I introduced myself to them, just as I once introduced myself to you. They are
many, and that night we only read a few, but the girls have grown fond
with me in a way that would not have been possible without our correspondence, and
I have cried in silent gratitude because you kept every letter and prepared a
path for me here in your life. Here in their lives. You have prepared us all.
We continue our reading the next day, and the day after. They like that I read.
the letters aloud under the tree where you are buried. They call it the tree of
Mom, I wonder if you will be there listening with them. They laugh at the fool.
that I was and how silly I am and they marvel that you were once my closest friend
dear. I also marvel at that, and Proverbs 16:9 has always been in
my mind.
The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.
All my roads, all my steps, have brought me here.
-Deborah

General John Paterson finally returned home in December

1783. When he left Lenox early on a Saturday morning in 1775, the
Thirteen colonies bordered to the west with the Alleghenies. When he resigned from his position at
by the end of '83, Lenox was no longer on the edge of the border. America extended to
west to the Mississippi.
I had only come back twice in the almost nine years I had been away. Once
to bury his sister Ruth in 77, and another to bury his wife. We do not
He warned that he was coming, although we had been keeping an eye on him since then.
Soldiers began to lag behind following the announcement of the Treaty of Paris.

Of course, he was the last to return home. He had promised to stay until
the end.
 I saw him from a window on the upper floor, a solitary figure over a
white horse. Agrippa had gone left at the fork towards Stockbridge
And John had stayed to the right. I saw him when he was still far away, barely a
stain on the long and straight road that crossed Lenox.
The girl who had once been would have tucked her skirts into her bodice and
I would have flown to meet him, stretching the length of my leg and the
size of your heart. But, although my heart raced, my legs did not
they could, and instead I went to the willow, needing a moment with Elizabeth
before greeting our dear John.
The others had time to welcome all the women of her
life. I heard Ruthie scream and Polly sob and Hannah tell both of them that they
calling. Then there were laughs, babbles, and boisterous kisses, and finally, the murmur of
my name on their lips.
Where is my wife? he asked, and I heard a shiver of doubt. Really
I feared that he/she wouldn’t wait?

She's under the willow with mom,

a radius of one kilometer.
"She said it was only fair that mom participated in your triumphant return," said Polly.
repeating to me word for word.
Ahh - the relief resonated in the sigh. - That sounds like Samson.

We like it, dad," said Polly.

I love her,
I will never love as much as I loved mom,
she will take care of it.

"Thank you, Hannah. And since when have you been so tall?" asked John, and I could
to hear her distress amidst her joy.
I have always been tall, father. You are huge, so you never noticed.
Mrs. Paterson, blessed be her kind heart, intervened. -Come on,
girls. Let's go inside and leave your father and Deborah for a moment.

—And mother —Hannah remembered.

 — And your mother — Mrs. Paterson corrected. — Holy heaven. How strange.
we are variety.
I heard them move away as their footsteps approached, and although I was in
backs, I closed my eyes just to hear him arrive, as I had done in the Red House,
following him through the halls, waiting impatiently for every moment he could
to spend time with him.

I would like to feel that terrifying gaze on my face again,

stopping a little beyond the tree, with Elizabeth's stone between
We. I extended my hand and touched the cold surface, as a sign of recognition, and
then I ran my hands over the blue dress I had worn to marry him.
I had to wear it many times since then - a good dress doesn't
waste-, but as soon as I saw it through the window of the upstairs, I ran to
putting it to me, wanting to restart our marriage where we had left off.
I hadn't had time to fix my hair properly and I had tied it up in a
smooth cola. It was much longer than Shurtliff's, but I liked the
combination of the dress and the soldier's tail.

Welcome home, sir, I said to him.

I turned slightly, unable to hide my smile. It was better to laugh than to cry,
but then I saw her face, every line dear and perfect, and I couldn't joke or
call him sir. I could only look at him and absorb him. It was impossible for a man,
tattered and battered by the wind, tired of the saddle and insecure, could
continue resembling John Paterson.
Impossible.
I can't breathe, she said. Looking at you... I can't breathe.

I can't either - I choked. - I haven't breathed since Philadelphia.

when Anne turned me back into a woman.
Joy surprised her cheeks and parted her lips, and we laughed together.
between tears.
Thank God for Anne,
looking at each other without closing the space, extending the incomprehensible joy of
reunion.
He crouched down, picked up a stone near the base of Elizabeth's tomb and it
cleaned of snow and debris. I thought I would place it on top of the tombstone, like
self-recognition, but instead it showed me, a smooth stone,
ordinary and mundane, which he had in the palm of his hand.

You once told me that you loved in different amounts. Big piles.
and small piles —he said.
Do you remember that?
I love you. You said that your love for me was a mountain in your chest.
She trembled her voice and circled the little stone with her fingers.

I nodded and placed a hand on my heart, fearing it would burst without me.

How big is the stack today, Samson?

I could no longer bear the distance and flew into his arms, tearing away the
hat from the head and bringing my breath back to my lungs. He rested his feet,
he lifted me and kissed me without waiting for my response, voracious and unrestrained, his fervor and
relief only matched by my own.
Samson himself could not bring it down, I confessed. Samson in person.
 Chapter 29

THIS STATEMENT

My mother died without knowing my story. She lived her last days in the home of her
sister in Plympton. She didn't visit me nor did she ask me to visit her. Never.
asked where he had been or what he had done after leaving the Thomases, and
I assumed that I didn't want to know. I assumed that no one wanted to know. It was better not to.
say it. I wrote him letters without shape or color, consisting of brief details and
bloodless events that encompassed my whole life, and she never asked for more.

I have married General John Paterson of Lenox, Massachusetts, a widower.

I met him many years ago. He has a nice house and three daughters. I am well.
Deborah
I have had a son. We have named him John Paterson in honor of his father and his
Grandpa. I am fine. -Deborah
I have had a daughter. We have named her Elizabeth. We are all well.
Deborah
He answered me in the same way, giving me a brief description of the
brothers that I did not know and from the people of the town that I could not remember. And
he always ended the letters like I did: 'I'm fine', and we never discussed whether it was
true or not.
From one side to the other, across the kilometers. Through the years. Until
I received a letter from your sister that was not very different from all the others.
communications that he had sent or received. It was short and emotionless, but
it ended with a slight variation.
Your mother died last Tuesday. I doubt it will be a shock. She hadn't been
good.
I sent money for his burial and a little extra for my uncles, and I received a
gratitude, a bundle of letters and a story that my mother had compiled from
The diaries of William Bradford. An inscription inside read: For Deborah,
of mother, trembling hand. The letters were the ones I had written to her, all
tied with a ribbon, a chronicle of fifteen years. Aside from my name and a
careful calligraphy - perfect curves and inclinations - there was very little of me in each
page. I couldn't imagine why I had kept them.
I tried to read the story, but every word was a wound, a lesson, and the
I put it in Elizabeth's chest at the foot of my bed, the place where she had
I had kept my letters. Over the years, I too had added my treasures to the chest.
from Elizabeth. My uniform was there.
The coat wouldn't button over my breasts when I tried it on, and it smelled like horses and
a bonfire. Beneath the stench was hidden a pinch of foam, of hair grease and
he was there, and although I slept next to him every night and uttered his name, I started to...
I pressed my belly and my blood warmed. And I missed him.
I missed myself.
The uniform shorts were like old socks, tight in some places.
parts and worn out in others, but I kept them on while putting on the
cap. The green plume was nothing more than withered grass, but if he closed his
eyes and tilted their head so that it brushed against my cheek, it wasn't hard to remember.

The general's uniform was still hanging in a fabric bag at the back of the closet.
He had worn it a few times. When Washington was elected president
in 89 and when he returned to his home in Mount Vernon in 97, John went to
Philadelphia for the oath and farewell, but I had refused to go with him.
dos veces. Quería protegerle, incluso de mí misma.
I got a new pair of underwear just like the ones I had worn. It cost me
a few attempts to get them to turn out well, but once I
I succeeded, I made more for myself. Then I also made a shirt and a vest, white.
con botones blancos lisos. Me compré una docena de penachos verdes en Lenox,
a black tricorn hat and black high boots. I dyed nine meters of cloth of
Colonial blue wool, and I lied saying it was for a new dress. I didn't have
reasons to lie, but I was not willing to talk, and for weeks I was
musing, lamenting, reflecting and planning until one day Agrippa
Hull went to see the general and was surprised to find him chopping wood with my brand new ones.
pants.
— Bonny, holy heaven. What are you doing? — she asked, collapsing onto the
rocking chair from my back porch.
 I am chopping wood, Agrippa.
Someone could see you. Think of the general!
Do you think some people would be willing to pay to see me in
calzones, Grippy? — I reflected.
He was left speechless.
In the afternoon, I realized how it had sounded. — I would like to set one up.
small production. And sell tickets. I would wear my uniform and talk about the
war from the female perspective. I would call it 'Deborah Samson, the girl who
he went to war.' Or 'Secret soldier.' Or something like that.

He tilted his head, incredulous. —Why would you do that?

You sit in the meadow and tell stories about the war all the time.
The soldiers come to your house and drink the rum you prepare. And you talk about the
Revolution. I also want to talk about it. On a stage.
I am not going to help you escape, Bonny.

I was left speechless. —I am not running away.

You have that passion for travel. Some people have it. You have always been
It's been a bit wild. But you can't walk around in those pants. Not anymore. Not anymore.
You are not Bonny Boy. You are Mrs. Paterson.

"So, why do you keep calling me Bonny?" I replied. "And I"

I should be able to go wherever I want, Agrippa Hull. I should be able to walk from
Lenox with my musket and my sane mind without anyone giving me permission or
listen.
"Should" is a curious thing. People talk a lot about how they should be.
things and not how they are. You are a woman, and that is a reality you cannot
discuss.
I am man enough.
He laughs. —Yes. I suppose you are. I suppose you were. But I don't think that
You deceive people like before. Your female is spilling everywhere.
Now. You are mature.
My shoulders sank. It was what I feared.
 The general is one of the best men I know. Why do you flee? And
specifically of him?
I am not going to flee! I insisted. I am not running away from him.

So who are you running from? And why do I feel like we have had
Has this conversation been a long time ago? —he scratched his head.

—Porque lo hicimos. Hablamos de nacer libre y morir libre. ¿Te das cuenta de
that you are one of the only people who really know who I am?
Are you referring to soldier Bonny?

Yes. I'm referring to soldier Bonny.

Many people know it. They just don't know what to think about it.

They do not know Deborah Samson. They only think they know her.

So you want everyone to know her. Is that it?

I want the world to accept her.
"Accept?" His stuttering turned into a great laugh. And he kept laughing,
throwing her head back and stomping as if it weren't enough.
Your response only made me angrier.
You can go now, Grippy, I insisted, breaking another log and throwing it aside.
I'm very glad to have entertained you.
He didn't leave. He kept laughing, swaying from side to side in my chair.
seeing myself cutting my anger.

—Oh, Bonny. How funny. How funny. I want the world to accept her.
she said, raising her voice a bit, imitating me. --Go ahead, woman. Go
in search of acceptance. When you find it, let me know. Because there are some
how many Africans would like to know where it is — he laughed again and
he slowly rose from the chair as if he had been exhausted by his joy.
But I haven't. I've already found it. It's right here.
the chest. —Right here.
 John found me where Agrippa left me, still chopping wood, still
taking my underwear, still boiling in the emotional soup of death of
my mother and finding acceptance.
"Rest, soldier," the general demanded.
I mocked, but I stopped swinging the axe and watched him walk towards me. With the
As the years passed, his hair had started to become unruly, beginning at the temples and
going back, but John Paterson was not very different from the general that
he had entered the West Point field to greet a group of newcomers
recruits. My heart had stopped then, and it had stopped again. Always.
Always.
He did not loosen his pace until he reached me and, when he did, he lifted my chin and
she gave me a kiss on the mouth that was neither courteous nor superficial.

Why do you cut wood, soldier Shurtliff? Mountains and mountains of

wood? — he looked at my piles. — Our children will think you are
building an ark.
I cut wood because I can. I'm good at it. And our children are not even here.
Here. John Jr. has gone to the city and Betsy is at your mother's house.
John's daughters had grown up and gotten married, and at fourteen and twelve.
Years, John Jr. and Betsy had busy lives and their own interests. John Jr. had
he had grown a lot and was very handsome. He looked more like a Samson than a Paterson, although
he was his father to the core, reliable, devoted, and good. He cared about what others
Others will think of me. It bothered him to hear them talk, but he would go to Yale in the fall.

Betsy had John's red hair and my fierce look, but she wasn't interested in the
books nor school. She was a talented weaver and Mrs. Paterson had
dedicated an entire room of their house to a loom, although we also
we had one in Paterson House.

—That loom is yours, mother —Betsy always argued. —Grandma's.

nunca lo usa nadie más que yo. Y te estoy haciendo algo. Una sorpresa.
You've blistered your hands - John took the axe from me and drove it into the stump.

"They are too soft," I turned around and entered the barn. He me
continued. I grabbed the pitchfork and started to stir the straw. It wasn't necessary to turn it over; it was already done.

to refresh it that morning.

 Where did you find those panties? They aren't mine. They fit you too much.
good.
I made them. Are you shocked?
No. But you no longer look like a kid in underwear, Samson.

You know that better.

Her eyes narrowed and my pulse quickened. It was always like this between us.
us. Even after two children and almost two decades. The hunger and the desire
they had never disappeared, to my surprise.
You have no form of a man.
Then I'll have to make a belly under the shirt to give it a
a little bit of contour to my waist —I said, although the general's waist was so flat and
hard as the walls of the barn.
Your waist will thicken soon if we keep going like this. My mother told me
he/she had when he/she was your age.

He was mocking me, but I stayed silent. I couldn't continue like we had been.
I couldn't. I had been pregnant five times and had aborted three, very
soon. I had proposed to be as good at having children as I am at everything else,
but it had turned out that I had no control or voice in the matter, and it had been many years
that I couldn't get pregnant. But if John Paterson gave me another baby now
in the womb, I could never leave. That thought froze me. I raised the
gallows towards my husband.

Stay away from me, John Paterson. I'm not in the mood for hookups.

So you shouldn’t have worn those panties.

He slammed the door shut, lowered the latch, and threw the noose aside. The
the rolling that followed, hands struggling to find flesh, mouths searching,
he proved that he was lying. I felt like fitting in. Unlike our first
I found, my breasts were free under the shirt and the vest. John stayed
looking at them as if I had not seen them a thousand, ten thousand times before.

They are so beautiful. They are so beautiful. They should never be tied up.

Never again. I will ride naked through the city —I challenged, even smirking.
while I was giving up.
 He groaned, struggling with my underwear and his, and our heated
the conversation turned into a frantic conspiracy that left us gasping and
with legs loose in the straw.
What is wrong with you, my wife? he murmured, pulling me onto his chest and
tangling her hands in my long braid. She knew she wasn't talking about the fight that
it had just happened. That was not new. But my underwear was.
I stepped aside and put my clothes back on. —I want to make myself another uniform.

—Why? None of us need our uniforms anymore.

—I need mine —I said, and a sudden and fierce emotion burst from my chest.
But my old underwear is too tight around the hips, and no matter how much
I tighten my breasts, it is still noticeable that I am a woman beneath the shirt. Neither
I can barely button up my coat. I have gained weight, General Paterson.

—Fat? —he laughed. —Barely. You just aren't bones and bandages anymore.

I can't run, not even walk long distances. And I'm not that strong.
I could only get on the bar when I tried. I have always been able to
climb up to the bar.
What are you talking about?

I climbed up the stairs to the attic, but instead of climbing, I swung.

holding onto the lower beam, just like I had done in Thomas's barn with
the brothers. John was watching me from the straw where he was still lying down, with the
head resting on hand, clothes disheveled and satisfied expression.
I practiced and pushed myself, and I managed to perform the maneuver once before having
to link the left leg around the ladder and swing back
to put myself to safety.

You are a monkey.

I used to do ten of those without thinking.

Get down from there.

I'm disappointed in myself, I said, still holding onto the ladder. No

I could look at him. He was too close to tears.
—Deborah. Come here —she insisted.
 I came down with my eyes full and moved to sit beside him on the straw.
Tell me what's wrong, soldier.
"Don't call me that!" I snapped at him.

You were —he said, unfazed. He picked a piece of straw from my hair and passed it.
hand for my braid. —You will always be.
I shook my head, inflexible. —I will never be it.
—Deborah —she murmured, continuing to stroke my hair. She wanted to move it away and
I wanted to bring it closer.

The Thomas family sent ten children - I said. - Middleborough sent many.
of her children, but no one gave more than the deacon and Mrs. Thomas.

No one did it, she admitted softly.

The only thing I regretted when I enlisted was causing them more pain or
shame. I thought I didn't care what my mother thought of me. I told myself to
myself who didn't care what they thought in Middleborough, even though I
I slipped away like I did.

His hand tightened in my hair, as if he knew I had to endure.

The Reverend Conant had gone, and I was glad not to be able to disappoint him.
Although I'm not sure he would have been embarrassed. He wasn't that kind of...
man. He was always very proud of me, in all my peculiar stages.
He saw the wonderful thing about you, just like Elizabeth. Just like me.

I crouched down, trying to hold back the water that kept rising, rising.
I never came back. You know that. I never came back to Middleborough. I let the
Thomas and my mother will endure the stories and the speculations that they had to.
continue. I never explained to them. I never thanked them. I simply left with him.
a rod stuck between the legs. And after what happened with Phineas... I never felt like
could
"I will take you to Middleborough," the general offered without hesitation. "If that is what
What you want, that's what we will do. We will go to Sproat's Tavern and to the First one.
Congregational Church. And we will tell them who you are and what you have done. I will be your
witness. I will attest to every word.
 You will make me respectable.

You are respectable.

I challenged him with a stony gaze and trembling lips. —If people only knew everything
The truth is, I wouldn't be. If you weren't by my side, I wouldn't be. Not for them. No.
for most people.
You did something that no other woman -that I know of- has ever done. You should
estar orgullosa.
-I am proud. But I am also deeply... ashamed.
He recoiled as if he had been slapped, but I continued. There were things that
I had to say. So many things, and if I didn't say them now, I might just throw myself into the harbor and
I let my skirts get tangled.
You know my ancestry.

—William Bradford, Myles Standish, John Alden —he repeated obediently.

Our children had also heard the stories. I felt I owed it to my mother.
Yes. Sometimes I wonder if William Bradford knows me as I always do.
I have known him. I think I could. Every soul that has been born is a sting of light.
in a huge network, and its light and mine are connected.
An enormous network, he murmured. Yes. I believe so too.

But it's not William Bradford that I think of the most. It's her.

Who? —the word was soft, and he had remained still.

—His first wife. Dorothy.
Your grandmother.

—No. I have no relationship with her. Not by blood. But it's in her that
who I think.
She is the one who jumped overboard, into the sea, he said, remembering. The one who
lost hope.
Yes. We are descendants of his second wife, Alice, who arrived at the
Plymouth Bay in 1623, a widow with two children. She gave to William Bradford.
three more, and one was Joseph, my ancestor. But it is with Dorothy that I dream.
She chases me. She cries and asks her son, John, for forgiveness. I cry and ask my ...
husband, John, forgive me. And now... my mother is also chasing me.
"Why?" she asked, drying the tears that had begun to fall.
to spill down my cheeks. I tilted my head and began to cry, and it wasn't weeping
silent from the frustration nor the painful cry of a bullet in my flesh. Neither
it was either the pain of death or the reaffirmation of life. I wasn't sure of
what it was, but it sprang from some deep place, from my well of miseries, a place
it had been dry for a long time.
--Deborah. Deborah --John groaned, holding me tightly in his arms. --Shhh.
Don't do that. I can't stand it — but there were tears in her reprimand
drowned. I was not prone to tears, and he didn't know what to do with this.
version of me. For several minutes, I felt too overwhelmed to
tell him/her.
I have hated my mother. I hated her. But now I see that there was a lot that
to admire. He did not abandon us or throw himself into the sea, although he could have done so. He was
too proud for that. And she was very proud of her heritage. Recently
I realized that my mother was proud of what she was because she didn't know the
pride in what it is.
I don't understand.

The only thing my mother gave me was my name. She made me feel
proud of my name. It made me feel proud of my origin and who I was. Without
embargo, I have spent so many years hiding from my name —I rubbed my
chest, fighting against the feeling that arose there. — It was Deborah Samson
who marched, bled, starved and served. I. But Deborah Samson continues.
being the object of contempt and speculation when someone thinks of me. And I have
allowed to be it by remaining silent. I didn't even tell my mother what
I did.
I felt overwhelmed again, suffocated, and John didn't try to respond to me, nor
at least he urged me to stop. He hugged me for a long time, as he had.
made after the death of Phineas, and when he finally spoke, I heard the same
impotence in his voice, the same guilt.
You have remained silent all these years... for me.
You are my heart, John Paterson.
 --And you are mine. But you are unhappy.

No. No unhappy person. It's not as simple as that.

You've lost hope —he whispered.

—Sí. He perdido la esperanza porque he perdido mi propósito.
What can I do? he asked, his compassion evident. Tell me,
soldier.
I know what I'm asking of you. I know it could cost you your dignity, and it could even
you started a good name, the name your father had and now... the name of
our son.
I have never cared much about my name, Samson. I told you a long time ago.
time. No one will remember John Paterson. That has never been what has concerned me.
motivated.
I need to tell my story, General. I want to tell it. Even if nobody wants to.
to hear a woman speak. Even if they throw me off the stage and throw me out of the city.
I need to tell my story because it is not just my story. It is Dorothy's. And it is the story of
Elizabeth. And that of Mrs. Thomas. It is the story of my mother and her daughters. Everyone.
we were there too. We suffered and sacrificed. We fought, even though not
always out in the battlefield. It was also our Revolution, and without
embargo... no one ever asks us.
 Chapter 30

DIVINE PROVIDENCE

People wanted to hear it.

I organized the entire tour myself. I booked venues and placed ads in the
newspapers. I went to Boston, Providence, Albany, and New York. I filled rooms. The
Colombian Sentinel said it was the first tour of its kind, a woman giving a
public conference.
Each program started with a demonstration. He wore a uniform: jacket
blue with white trim and white pants. It wasn't the uniform that I had been given.
Given years ago. It was not the uniform that I had patched and repaired. I had.
made a new one, identical to the previous one. The hat he wore on his head, with
his cheerful pen was also new. But the musket was the same. The
maneuvers too. I completed a full five minutes of exercises with John giving
the orders, the snap of my weapon and the whisper of my movements as the only
sound in the room.
I loaded my weapon, opened the paper cartridges with my teeth and carried out the
movements of pouring the gunpowder, dropping the bullet, and packing it all down with my stick,
receiving a resounding applause when I completed each demonstration of my manliness
skill. Then I got off the stage and left the room to quickly change and
return to the assembly, dressed like Deborah Samson, the wife of a general, with
the hair up and a dress that accentuated my feminine silhouette. But I still continued
carrying my musket, and that delighted the crowd.
I always started my speech in the same way, and I always went up alone to
scenario.
We do not fight for the man who has everything and wants more, but for the
man who has nothing —these were the words that had inspired the revolution
in me, and I still believed them.
 No man or woman born on earth can...
certain circumstances expect to truly escape from them. Our
the die is cast from the moment we inhabit the womb of our
mothers, since we breathe. But perhaps that can change here, in this land.
We also went to Middleborough.
The old church of Reverend Conant allowed me to speak from its
pulpit, a truly revolutionary concession. The Third Baptist Church
he also invited me, not wanting to be outdone by his only competition, and
I did my presentation in two nights, giving two consecutive performances from
each church, and the four services were packed to the brim with people
from Plympton and Taunton as well, although I was more of a curiosity than a child
favorite.
Mrs. Thomas and Benjamin arrived. The deacon had died, and the lady
Thomas had gotten even smaller. His dark hair was silver, but his
brown eyes were still the same. When I approached her in the end, I
he embraced me tightly and rested his head against my chest, as if I were the
mother and she the girl. Age reverses the roles.

—Oh, Deborah. Oh, mi querida niña. Te he echado de menos. Te he echado

so much less. Will you come to the house with us and have dinner late or at least
Will you have a cup of tea and some bread with jam?
I agreed, although I arranged to come the next day for lunch.
Before we leave for Boston. I spent the afternoon showing John the farm and the fields.
that once they had been my comfort and my cage.
This room is even smaller than your quarters in the Red House.
--he said softly, observing the tiny space that I had been lucky enough
to have. Now I knew. I had been one of the lucky ones.
The space had been used and occupied in the years that I had been.
outside, and there was nothing left of mine, but I just had to close my eyes and breathe
deeply, and I was twelve years old again, scratching my letters in the light of the
candles.
During a simple meal at the old table now cramped with chairs
empty, we reminisce about the early years, uttering endearing names and
remembering beloved faces, honoring them with our memories. Jacob had
returned home after the war and had married Margaret, who had
I waited patiently for their return, but they had moved west, to Ohio,
taking advantage of the lands that had been promised to Jacob when he was appointed
lieutenant.
Benjamin had never been married and was now managing the Thomas farm, along with
Francis and Daniel, who lived nearby with their own families. I would have liked
I saw them, but I had the feeling that they preferred not to see me. The association was
a complicated matter, and I forgave them, even though it hurt me.

Before we left, Benjamín took out a wooden box that he seemed reluctant to want.
to let go. He held it for a moment, with the lower lip between his teeth, and
then he/she gave it to me.

—This is yours. Everything you left. I read all those letters to Elizabeth in your
diaries. Many times —his face turned an uncomfortable shade of pink, but I
He held her gaze while confessing. -They are wonderful. You should collect a
book.
John, always attentive and kind, excused himself to put away the box and take care of
the horses while we were saying goodbye. Mrs. Thomas hugged me again and
he made me promise that I would write.

I said I would do it and I apologized for all my years of silence. - You were my
mother. You loved me. And I left without telling you that I loved you too. Can you
excuse me, Mrs. Thomas?
He took my face in his hands and, with trembling lips and tearful eyes, I...
God gave the absolution. —I am very proud of you. I have always been very proud.
from you. Never stop being Deborah Samson. Don't hide her again. The world
needs to know your story.
As we moved away, the carriage bounced along the track I
I had run a thousand times, John looked at me with a sad smile.
“Were they all in love with you, Samson?” she asked.

—Who? —I replied, still caught in my memories and distracted by old ones.

memories.
Those ten boys, Thomas. Were they all in love with you?

I scoffed and shook my head, used to his jokes. —Jacob got married.
with Margaret.
 -Yes. Pragmatic on his part. But poor Benjamin Thomas is still standing in
the road.
I looked back and saw that it was true. I greeted him again and he raised his hand,
sign that she was still watching me, even though she was hardly in sight anymore.

The day they arrived... it must have been something — John reflected. — I almost feel pity.
for them.
They said he looked like a fence post, a scarecrow, and that the
I would kill them in their beds —I laughed, but the memory burned in my throat and
they tickled my nose. —They had no mercy.
—No. They were totally at your mercy, poor things. No girl would have given
the size after you.
I rinsed my eyes and looked back once more. Benjamin was beyond.
from my view. —You don't know everything, John Paterson.

No. But I know you, Sampson.

29 de abril de 1827
Dear Elizabeth,
The willow over your grave has grown. There is a place for me beside you, and I believe
that this letter will be the last. I have written everything that needed to be said and I have told you
everything that needed to be said to you.

I have aged in your house. I used to think about how strange it was to walk through
where you had walked, to sit at your desk where you once wrote to me,
look through your windows and see from your perspective.

Once I asked John what he would think of me, entering your life as it
I did it. Putting myself in your shoes.

He only said: —She would welcome you here. But you brought your own shoes and
you made your own life. You didn't take hers.
 And we leave it like this.

John became a judge - he has been a judge for many years. He has never lost.
a choice. I think I've told you this before. He also went to Congress for two
years, but it required too much time away from home, and she never showed up again.

People trust him and he is fair. They love that he was a general and they are
willing to overlook the uncomfortable fact that I am their wife. Once,
a journalist asked about me. John called me, introduced me, and I spoke the
speech that I had memorized, with paragraphs from the declaration, my ideas about the
rights of all men and women, and my wandering ancestry. Even
I finished with my musket and the weapons manual.

No one asked about me again.

Your daughters are already grown. My sons are too. They call each other brothers and that makes me
It warms the heart. Our grandchildren run around and shout when they are here.
We have a granddaughter named Elizabeth and another named Deborah, and they are the
best friends. They have challenged the elders to a foot race, and I have done it to them.
each one a pair of magical underwear to make it a little fairer.
Twenty-five years have passed since my first lecture tour, and only
I make small commitments here and there, from time to time. It is always an honor.
that people continue to want to get to know me, and they are always surprised by my appearance and
my way of speaking. They say things like: 'You must have looked very different'
So, or I thought you would be taller. That catches my attention because I still
being very tall. The general says that he is surprised that she looks like a woman. —No
they expect you to be charming, wise, or to speak well — he says. — They expect a
Samson and you are a Deborah.
I like to think that I am both.
Some do not believe that it was truly helpful. They consider me a liar, and
I have been the source of gossip -most of it unfounded- since I started to
tell my story. But John knows the truth, and I know the truth, and together we have
kept hope alive.
Agrippa Hull also knows the truth, and likes to say that change is slow,
but once it arrives, it stays. It's still in Stockbridge. It's so famous for
people like me, probably more, although no one ever has anything bad
What to say about him. People continue to gather around him on sunny days in
the village garden to hear him tell stories of the war.
 He has found a woman he likes to look at and another one he likes.
look at him. His children are also older, free men born of free men,
but slavery has not ended, not even all these years after the
war. Slavery is not over, and women continue to have our
place, and it is better that we do not venture out of it. Perhaps it is because we are
a treasure, as John once said, but one thing is to be a 'treasure' and another is to be a
treasure. One is valued, another is possessed, and people are not possessions.
I applied for a soldier's pension and sent dozens of letters to Congress.
asking that my service be recognized. John says I earned it, just like everyone else.
the others, and that it should have her, but it was not until 1818, even though it had
support letters from Paul Revere, who has become a dear friend, and from
own President John Quincy Adams, that Congress finally conceded and I received my
pay. Paul Revere delivered it to me personally, and the newspapers wrote that
I was drinking again in taverns with men, and the story from long ago resurfaced.
time of the Sproat tavern, in Middleborough.
I have made John promise that he will present himself as a soldier's spouse if I
I will die before him. I put his promise in writing and made him sign it as Major.
General John Paterson. He no longer argues with me -not about those things-, but when
I become too bossy, he refers to me as soldier Shurtliff.
reminding me that he has more rank than I do. Then he flashes that secret smile,
the one who makes me catch my breath, and we remember what it was like when I stopped being
Shurtliff and he became my dear John.
I was a soldier and I am proud of it. I am also a mother and a wife, and I have not
renounced the blessings nor the power of femininity, as you advised me
once. I have taken on all the roles, I have performed all the functions and I
left my mark on the world.
But the world has also marked me.
In Genesis, when Jacob fought with God, he limped forever. So do I.
I limp. The years have taught me that we never come out unscathed from our
battles, no matter how noble they may be. Every cause has a cost, and many have paid it.
paid. So many. And a large part of the world will never know the role they played,
the role I played, a girl named Samson.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I am marching again. Moments of
those days stand out in bright colors, a red handkerchief on a clothesline
surrounded by wool. Memories greet me cheerfully and linger in my dreams
as if I were there, the bare feet of the men around me leaving
blood on the snow. Red and white, and blue coats. Marching relentlessly back
from war towards a future that we will never see.
But I no longer dream of Dorothy May Bradford. My skirts do not roll up.
around my legs and pull me. I have learned to free them. To wear underwear
when I should. And soon I will run again.
I can almost hear the call of my brothers.
-Deborah
 Author's note

I did not know the story of Deborah Sampson (also Samson) until 2021.
when I came across an article about the women of the American Revolution. It was
A story of the Fourth of July, from a women's publication I follow online.
I was left speechless. I once taught history. I was a teacher in a school where the
history and the heritage of the United States were the basis of the curriculum, and not
I knew nothing about her. Immediately I started to investigate, everything I could,
taking into account the scarce resources about her and her life. Then I wrote a
proposal for my editor, hoping that he would be as interested as
I in her history. That's how it was, and a girl named Samson published.

It was then that the hard work began. Deborah's story was
brought to the pages in the early 19th century by a man named Herman
Man, who is said to have interviewed Deborah at length. He did not do a good
work. It was an almost impossible read, and Deborah herself barely peeked through
the pages, but I managed to see her.
I researched other original sources from the time, one of them written by the
Doctor James Thatcher, physician assigned in the last years of his service to the
General Paterson's brigade. In Mann's book, it is said that Deborah met
James Thatcher as a child, but she is not mentioned anywhere in the hundreds
of pages of annotations and detailed accounts that Thatcher wrote during the
war. The widow Thatcher, with whom Deborah lived from the age of eight to ten,
it seems to have been a relative of hers, as indicated in the book, although I don't know with
certainty what the relationship was.

Thatcher's diary not only provided abundant information about the

Paterson's brigade and the war in the highlands, but also stories
specific regarding Deborah's regiment. Its commanding officers, the men
with whom he served and the missions in which he would have been were present in his
annotations. Thatcher was well acquainted with General Paterson and refers to him.
many times. I don't know if James Thatcher ever found out the true identity of
Robert Shurtliff, although he certainly knew both the girl and the soldier. Dr.
Thatcher added her record and made additions to the text long after
the war will end, but she never mentioned it, although the identity of Deborah
was exposed after his yellow fever attack in Philadelphia. Dr. Thatcher
It also refers to Dr. Binney.
Dr. Binney was one of the doctors at the hospital to which they took Deborah,
in his soldier's uniform, unconscious and unknown. It was Dr. Binney who
he helped her and took her in until she recovered. According to Mann's account,
Deborah walked back to West Point after recovering and introduced herself to the general.
Paterson a letter from Dr. Binney revealing that he was a woman. In that
moment, according to Herman Mann, General Paterson discharged her with honors and
kept her secret, becoming her confidant for a long time
after the war.
In Deborah's words, John Paterson was her dear old friend.
He was not old at all, but I have no doubt he was loved. When I read the
story of Herman Mann, I couldn't help but think that there was something there, something very
special, even if it wasn't romance. That Deborah Sampson became
the field assistant of General Paterson was miraculous, and he was largely his
protector. And what is more important, especially for the time in which he lived, he believed
in her and admired her for what she was and for what she had accomplished.

I had never heard of John Paterson either. His great-grandson, Thomas

Egleston collected and published an account of his life in 1894 using the letters and
stories available in the files of the War of Independence
mainly letters to Congress and communications with other officials - along with
stories that had been passed down in the family. In the great-grandson's book, it did not
mention Deborah Sampson.
Tal vez John Paterson no habló de ella, aunque eso es casi imposible de creer
For me. A female soldier who was his aide-de-camp? But she doesn't exist.
mention any of it in the 279 pages of the fine print of Egleston, that
they detail the eight years of steadfast service of Paterson in the War of the
Independence. Its absence was striking.
General Paterson was described as a strong and handsome man,
Scottish descent, 1.90 m tall and athletic, a man who never shirked his duty.
he did not seek to draw attention. This is especially notable considering his
youth; according to his great-grandson, he was one of the youngest generals, if not the youngest.
young, from the war, and remained in his position until all the others were
sent home. He was appointed division general at the end of his service.
 Only son, the youngest of a family of five sisters, with a military father.
who died of yellow fever in the service of the Crown, John Paterson does not me
it turned out to be not difficult to bring to life. After reading the stories of his great-grandson and the
military communications in which he pleaded for help for the men under his command,
I was very impressed. Just like Deborah, I adored him. Many of the
the scenes and events of the book are completely fictional, but its dedication is not.
it was. It is also evident, from the files that are kept, that often
He was sent to manage disputes and calm storms, and his reputation was stellar.
His relationship and affection for Agrippa Hull, the famous African American soldier from the
Revolution, it is also recorded in the records I have found. He was very well known.
and dear in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. The story of how he put on the uniform
of Colonel Kosciuszko and the lower part of the legs and feet was painted is real.
He was a vibrant and convincing character, both in this story and in life.
real.
According to his great-grandson, John Paterson kept detailed records, and as a general,
lawyer, judge, and congressman reluctant to a mandate, it is not surprising. However,
shortly after his death, all his personal files and his correspondence
they were lost in a fire.
I took liberties with the ages and relationships of my characters: The
John Paterson's wife, Elizabeth Lee Paterson, did not die during the war and,
although it seems he met Deborah at some point, she and Deborah do not
they maintained the relationship that I attribute to them in the book. Elizabeth Paterson
she survived for decades to John Paterson and Deborah Sampson and was a woman
fascinating and unconditional. John and Elizabeth had five children, including one
who died during childbirth and another, Polly, to whom I give the name in this book, that
he suffered from poor health and died at seventeen. John Paterson has a
small monument in Lenox, Massachusetts, and the house he built there continued
standing when his great-grandson collected his history.

Deborah Sampson was born on December 17, 1760, not in 1759, and she was
descendant of William Bradford, whose accounts of the history of the pilgrims
have been passed down from generation to generation. Their inheritance, on both sides of their
family began there, and it was deeply personal and important to her. Its
father, Jonathan Sampson, abandoned his family, a wife and five children. The
Deborah's relationship with her mother was almost non-existent, although the Thomas family
he lived in Middleborough, not far from Plympton. Reverend Sylvanus Conant
helped to establish the bond of servitude, very common at that time. His
intelligence and its abilities were a joy for him, and he did everything possible to
to take care of her and give her what he could. Her sudden death in 1777 was devastating.
for her.
The Thomases had many children (some records say six and not ten),
although I have not been able to find a good list of their names or records
military. I know that several of them were lost in the war, but I couldn't find
specific and reliable details of that service. I think the Thomases were like
many families of the time. Everyone gave something, some gave everything, and I have to
to believe that those Thomas had a great impact on Deborah Sampson, both in
life like in death.
The regiment of Deborah, its commanding officers and some of the names of
The men who served with her are part of the historical record. James
(Jimmy) Battles, Noble Sperin, and John Beebe died in Tarrytown and were
part of Deborah's company. There are doubts about whether Deborah enlisted in April.
from 1781 or in April 1782. If he enlisted in 1782, he did not serve in Yorktown, although the
Mann's book mentions it there. It doesn't matter. His service in the war was really
notable, and its resilience and courage even more.

It is also true that he organized a lecture tour in 1802, the first one.
of this kind, and traveled all over the world sharing his adventures. It was the
first woman to receive a soldier's pension, although she had to apply for it to the
Congress for decades. Paul Revere, a friend, was crucial for the
received.
Deborah married a man named Benjamin Gannet a few years later.
from the war and had three children (Earl, Mary, and Patience) and adopted another, a maid
call Susanna. I found that especially moving. It seems that our
The heroine never forgot who she was.

Debora's leg bothered her for the rest of her life, although she was tireless.
until the end, always doing and striving. When people got to know her, she
Menudo was surprised by his appearance, waiting, as John states in the book,
"a Samson instead of a Deborah". I believe it was both things. True
pioneer and patriot, is buried in Sharon, Massachusetts, and a small museum
in Middleborough remembers his life up to today.
Deborah Sampson may be my favorite rebel. I hope that,
Wherever you are, know how much your story has moved me. The
History has not done justice to him, but I sincerely hope that I will.
~Amy Harmon
 Acknowledgments

A special thanks to my agent, Jane Dystel, who is a warrior for

own right, and to Karey White, Sunshine Kamaloni, Amanda Woodruff, Ashley
Weston and Barbara Kloss, who read Deborah's story when I was afraid
and they encouraged me when I had doubts. I was hungry and they fed me, I was thirsty
and they gave me something to drink. Blessed be all.
 About the author

Amy Harmon is a bestselling author of the Wall Street Journal, USA Today
New York Times. His books have been published in more than two dozen languages in
everyone. Amy has written nineteen novels, including the bestseller of
USA Today Making Faces. His historical novel Of Sand and Ash was the novel of
winner of the Whitney Award in 2016. Her novel What the Wind Knows
topped the Amazon charts for thirteen weeks and was on the list of the
100 best-selling books over six months. His novel A Different Blue is a
New York Times bestseller, and its fantasy The Bird and the Sword, bestseller
USA Today was a finalist for the Goodreads Best Book of 2016. To stay updated on the
upcoming book releases, publications about the author and much more,
join Amy at [Link].