Excerpt of No Gentleman Is He by Carley Bauer, Lynette Willows

Abigail settled with Cassandra in the parlor, pouring tea to settle her nerves. "Relax, my dear. The men will be all right." As Cassandra sipped her tea, she could tell her aunt watched her carefully over the rim of her own cup.

Just then, they both heard the faint but unmistakable sounds of marching feet. Cassandra put her cup on the small table and rushed to the window, pushing the curtains aside and glancing out.

She gasped. Abigail joined her a moment later, her own gasp audible. At the end of the street, Cassandra made out a line of figures passing by, the streetlights glinting off swords and gun barrels.

"Well, well. It seems they have taken action sooner than we expected," Abigail said quietly, her breath fogging the window.

Cassandra hurried to the coat hook in the hallway, took down her cloak and threw it over her shoulders.

Abigail followed, a frown creasing the delicate features of her face. "And just where do you think you are going, young lady?"

Cassandra was determined. "The men do not know. Things are happening faster than they expected. They need to be warned," she answered as she opened the door.

Abigail pushed the door shut, almost catching Cassandra in the doorjamb. "Aunt Abigail!" she objected.

"You cannot race through the streets alone, my dear," Abigail said. "You cannot leave this house, not with all those soldiers out there. You will be stopped."

"Not if I continue with my guise of a Loyalist. It worked before. Aunt, the men need to be warned that they are in danger now!" Her pleading fell on deaf ears.

"Come," Abigail touched her shoulder, urging her back into the parlor. "There is nothing you can do. Besides, you do not even know where they went."

"I know they went to Lexington or Concord, based on what they discussed here..." Cassandra said, uncertainly. "I should be able to find them on the road..." Her voice faded, watching her aunt return to the parlor.

Picking up her cup with her back to Cassandra, she said, "Come and sit and finish your tea, my child. They will certainly hear the..." Cassandra did not hear anymore and she pulled the door closed behind her.

Cassandra quickly saddled Thunder and, with the help of a crate she used as a mounting block, settled in the saddle and rode out in search of the men.

On the road, she passed the line of marching soldiers. She ignored the command to stop, barreling by the officers in front and dodging one who reached out to grab the reins. She ducked into a side street. Unfamiliar with Beacon Hill, she knew Thunder could out–run British mounts and get her safely back on track. The sound of thundering hooves soon faded.

She rode recklessly through the dark, hoping her horse did not stumble over the ruts in the roads and throw her. Luckily the soldiers did not seem to consider a lone woman worth the effort to pursue. As she put distance between her and the soldiers, she suspected it was mere luck more than skill that kept her mounted.

When she came to the crossroads, she reined up abruptly, causing Thunder to rear and toss his head before coming to a stop. Mud raised up, splattering the hem of her dress but she paid no mind. She studied the signs, indecisive. Was it Lexington, or Concord? She searched her memory for which city was more urgent, based on the conversation the men held at Aunt Abigail's. They said the leaders were vital, and that meant Lexington. She turned and started down the road to Lexington, but stopped abruptly yet again, circling Thunder. He snorted in frustration at the rough treatment.

Colton would be more concerned about the arms, she knew, while Jackson would be concerned about the men. She circled her horse again, trying to make up her mind.

The men were more important, and she knew she should warn Jackson first, since he was no doubt heading in that direction.

Cassandra kicked her horse, having made up her mind. She rode to the crossroads and turned toward Concord, trying to make up wasted time. Her concern for Colt overrode her duty.

***

As Colton, Warren and Hunter entered Concord, the hue and cry went out at each dwelling they passed. The men of the town gathered up arms and rode to the Concord Bridge. A far–off series of gunfire, like the distant approaching of thunder, made them uncertain what happened since there was no expectation of actual battle. While Colton and his companions gathered what powder and munitions they could load onto wagons, the Concord militia withdrew to a position on a hill across from the North Bridge. Some thought retreat was the better part of valor, despite some objections from more adventurous men. Ultimately, they all wanted to avoid casualties.

Colton and the others managed to save the majority of supplies, secreted in storage, by expeditiously loading them into commandeered wagons. Two men climbed up, whipped the horses and drove like madmen out of the town, hurriedly taking supply wagons to designated alternate locations. The two men barely made it out when Colton and the others heard a series of gunshots and shouting. They raced out with others to assist but it was too late. Already the Concord militia was forced to retreat, and the British forces marched in to occupy the town.