A New Start

A New Start

Arthur Osborne pressed flat in the brush alongside the road, his fingers curled around the stock of his Brown Bess. One squeeze and he’d drop the enemy soldier in his sights. 

Henry lay to Arthur’s right, face darkened with soot, blending into the shadows of the forest. Manon Fortin lay to Arthur’s left, a dagger in her hand, a blue handkerchief holding back her mane of brown curls.

The American flag snapped in the wind, the drummers played a quick march, but the platoon shuffled along the winding road towards the fort.


An attacker with supplies. 

Henry made to stand. Arthur scowled at Henry. 

Three against a platoon were never good odds. Henry shrugged the indifferent one-shouldered shrug of all younger brothers when caught stealing a cookie from the jar.

The footfalls of the American platoon disappeared over the hill. 
Manon rose and shook the dirt off her skirts. “Think the woman at the tavern was right?”

The crown of her head came to Arthur’s shoulder. What she lacked in size, she made up with boldness. Much to his mind’s contention but to his heart’s desire.