Page 42 - Fever 1793

“I have raspberries, too,” I said.
“Sit close to me, child,” he said. “I want to see your face.”
I made myself comfortable in the dirt and shared the berries with him. King George swooped down to
help himself to dinner.
“I found a stream of fresh water, like a soldier would, by following the willows. It’s beautiful and
cool and peaceful. We’ll go there after the sun sets. Once you recover your strength, we’ll go home and you can rest in your own bed.”
Grandfather slowly raised a raspberry to his mouth. A mockingbird in the meadow whistled, and King George took off in pursuit. Cicadas and crickets sang farewell to the sun slipping toward the west.
“I’m a fool,” Grandfather said.
“Pardon me?”
“I’m a fool,” he repeated. “Worse, an old fool. Lucille was right all along. I should have paid more
attention. General Washington used to say my only fault was stubbornness. If not for that...”
His voice drifted off but his eyes did not close. Would he be strong enough to walk as far as the willows? Maybe we should try in the morning, after he had a good sleep. We sat in the cooling quiet as
the stars crept out from the mantle of night.
“I am concerned for your future,” he said. “We must form our battle plans, both for this skirmish and
the rest of the war.”
I waited for his advice. It did not come. That scared me more than anything. He was waiting for me to
decide what to do.
“We’ll move camp tomorrow,” I finally said. He nodded. “Whatever you say, Captain.”