The Winter Hero Read online

  “So I see. They’re wrong about that. I’m just sort of an aide to Captain Shays.”

  “Well, they think you’re one of the leaders. I was afraid for you to come down.”

  “They’re not arresting anybody yet. They will be soon enough.” He folded the paper up and put it in his shirt. “Good work, Justin,” he said. It made me proud to have him say that.

  Then he told me about Worcester. It seems that it went just about the same as Springfield. Our people had marched in and closed the court. There wasn’t much the judges could do about it, so they had just gone away.

  “We’re winning then,” I said.

  Peter was gnawing at the bread. “Not really. We can’t just go on closing the courts forever. Sooner or later they’ll send an army out after us. What we’ve got to get are some real changes in the law. Something’s got to be done about the taxes, something’s got to be done about these debts everybody has and going to debtor’s prison. And the court fees, and the legal fees, and all the rest of it. Somehow, the Governor and the General Court have got to get it through their heads that they can’t go on treating us like this.”

  “What’s going to happen, Peter?”

  “Can’t say. Don’t know. But if we don’t get some changes, I think there’ll be war. The plain people won’t stand for losing their oxen and cattle and their farms to the rich time after time. They’ll fight. If a man loses his farm, what’s he got left?”

  “If there’s fighting, I want to be in it.”

  He gave me a look. “No sir,” he said. “You’re too young.”

  “Peter, I’m not—”

  “You’ve got your job to do here. You’re more valuable here than fighting.”

  I decided not to argue about it. If it came to fighting, I was determined to go. “The way I fixed the lock to his cabinet I can always get into it again.”

  “That’s fine. Don’t take any chances. Wait until you get something good.”

  “Like what?”

  “What we’d really like to know is what they plan to do—whether they’re going to send an army out against us, whether they’re going to use the militia on us, if they start planning to arrest people. Sooner or later they’ll do something. That’s what we want to know.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll try.”

  The next few weeks were a confusing time. All through September and into October there were meetings and speeches. Lots of the towns got up petitions which they sent to the Governor, asking redress for our grievances—lower taxes, or lower court fees, and such. There were more court closings, too. Half the state of Massachusetts was in an uproar, with people arguing on all sides, everybody with his own opinion of what should be done. It was hard for us to know exactly what was going on, but we read about it in the Hampshire Gazette, and sometimes the men on the farm got gossip and rumors from the taverns or stores when they were out carrying shipments of flax or wheat or whatever to Springfield.

  Then in October the Governor’s Council put out a big proclamation that if any of the people who had been closing the courts would take an oath of loyalty before January 1st of the next year—1787—he would be pardoned for whatever he’d done to “make a disturbance.” But anybody who wouldn’t take the oath would be tried for high treason and if found guilty, suffer what the law called “condign punishment.”

  I asked Jasper what that meant. “ ‘Condign’ means ‘suitable,’ and the suitable punishment for treason is hanging.”

  “You mean they’d actually hang Pet—people?”

  “That’s what they’re saying, Justin. I’d watch my step if I were you. Everybody knows that your brother-in-law is involved in the whole thing. They’ll be keeping a sharp eye on you. You’re both likely to get it in the neck.”

  I could feel the hair on the back of my neck sort of tingle—like it was standing straight out like the fur on a scared cat. I wondered if maybe things hadn’t got out of hand. It was getting pretty clear that it had been a bad mistake for us not to send our representatives to the General Court.

  But the proclamation didn’t scare anybody. It just riled all of our people up. And on October 13, Daniel Shays issued an order for organizing all of our people into a regular army. It said:

  Gentlemen,

  By information from the General Court, they are determined to call all those who appeared to stop the Court to condign punishment. Therefore, I request you to assemble your men together, to see that they are well armed and equipped with sixty rounds each man, and to be ready to turn out at a moment’s warning; likewise to be properly organized with officers . . .

  So the army was formed. All over our part of the state men began signing up, one company of a hundred or so men in this little town, another company in that one. Sometimes whole militia companies just went on drilling—but with the idea of fighting against the government instead of for it. Some of the men had good muskets leftover from when they’d fought in the Revolutionary War. Others had fowling pieces or flintlocks they’d used for hunting. Others didn’t have anything but clubs or maybe a sword. But they were ready to fight.

  Some people called our army the Shaysites, but most people called it the Regulators, because on the enlistment papers our soldiers were called “Regulators in Order for the Suppressing of Tyrannical Government of the Massachusetts State.” The enlistment was supposedly for four months, with a pay of forty shillings a month and a bonus of forty pounds if we won. But nobody knew where the money to pay anybody was coming from, and anyway, a lot of men never bothered to sign the enlistment papers, but just went out and drilled with the rest. The really strange thing was the government was going to tax us to pay the militia. The Regulators would be paying their enemy to fight them.

  I sure wanted to join up myself. It seemed like there was going to be a war for me to fight in after all. Maybe I’d really have a chance to do something brave that would make Peter proud of me. Of course, I wasn’t old enough. But I knew of people who fought in the Revolution when they were only fourteen—drummer boys and such—and if they could do it, why not me?

  And I was worrying about this, worrying about how I was going to get Peter to let me go, worrying about how I was going to escape from Major Mattoon’s house, when one day there arrived three men on horseback. It was early November, about three o’clock in the afternoon. Major Mattoon greeted them at the front door, and then they all went back to the library and shut the door. I resolved that I was going to get in on the meeting.

  Chapter Six

  I WENT OUT TO THE PANTRY WHERE JASPER was sorting out napkins. “They probably want some wine, don’t you think, Jasper?”

  He gave me a look. “What are you up to, Justin? It isn’t like you to beg for work.”

  “I just didn’t want to get into trouble.”

  “If they want something, they’ll ask for it.”

  “Well, I’d better bring up some wood.”

  “You mean there isn’t any wood in the library?”

  “Not very much,” I said. “I forgot.” That was a lie: there was plenty of wood in the library, for I was always taking more in, in hopes of spotting an important piece of paper on Major Mattoon’s desk. “I’ll get some.”

  “You’d better be quick about it.”

  I went out to the woodshed and in five minutes I was at the library door. I pushed it open with my foot and walked in. Major Mattoon and the three others were sitting at the table at the opposite side of the room from the desk. When I came through the door Major Mattoon gave me a look, but then went back to his conversation. I quietly set the logs down in the box that was there for them. Then I picked up the poker and began jabbing at the logs in the fireplace, as if to make them burn better.

  “You fellows from Boston don’t know how bad things have gotten out here,” Major Mattoon said. “The whole countryside is on fire.”

  “Oh, I think Governor Bowdoin is well aware of your problems.”

  “We can’t count on the militia. Half of
them are in cahoots with Shays’ Regulators. Hundreds of them drill with the militia, and then turn around the next day and drill with the Regulators.”

  I went on poking at the fire.

  “We know that, Major Mattoon. We aren’t counting on the militia, either.”

  “Then we’re going to get our army, after all?”

  “We thought you’d be pleased to hear that news.”

  “By God, sir, I am,” Major Mattoon said. “That’s the best news I’ve heard for months. We’ll run the rabble back into their holes quick enough.” Suddenly he noticed me. “Conkey, what are you doing?”

  “Just fixing the fire, sir.”

  “That’s enough, that’s enough. Go along.”

  I put the poker back in its rack and walked toward the door, going softly in hopes of hearing just one more thing. I opened the door. “Oh, Conkey, tell Jasper to bring us in some port.”

  I went through the door. Then I raced out into the kitchen, downstairs to the wine cellar, and found a bottle of port. I took it up, wiped it off, then got the corkscrew and the tray and went back down the corridor toward the library. As I passed the pantry, Jasper looked up. “Where are you going with that?” he said.

  ‘The Major asked me to bring them some port.”

  “Are you sure he didn’t say, ask Jasper to bring some in?”

  “He asked me, Jasper.” Jasper said nothing, and I walked back into the library. I opened the wine and began to fill the glasses.

  “You have to think of them as children,” I heard Major Mattoon say. “They run up debts buying gewgaws—fancy pins and silver buttons and similar trash coming in from abroad—and when they can’t pay their taxes they complain about the laws.”

  I handed the glasses of port around.

  “People with little or no property are not to be trusted. They don’t know how to handle money,” one of the men said.

  I recorked the bottle. Then I slipped quietly over to the fireplace. There was a little hearth brush hanging there on a hook.

  “They need to be kept under control,” the Major said. “Or the first thing you know, they’ll be out after our property. What we need is a well-disciplined army to keep order around here.”

  I began to sweep the bits of bark on the hearth into the fireplace, going as slow and quiet as I could.

  “Well, we have one for you.” I had my back to them, but I heard the rustle of paper. “Here’s what Governor Bowdoin proposes to send you. General Benjamin Lincoln will have charge of the force. You know him, I assume?”

  “Yes,” Major Mattoon said. “He’s an excellent choice.”

  I wanted to get a look at that paper. I knew it was about as important as anything could be. But I couldn’t go on sweeping the hearth forever. I tried desperately to think of something else to do.

  “The Governor is not holding back anything. He knows these people have to be taught a lesson. If every farmer who runs up debts is allowed to disown them with force of arms, there’ll be no way to run a sound economy. The law has got to be enforced.”

  “You’re right,” another man said. “The common people must understand that the men who own the country are the men who should govern it. We must be firm here.”

  Oh, it made me angry to hear them talk like that, as if because we were just plain farmers we couldn’t think things through for ourselves. Peter would have stood up and shouted at them, and I wanted to do the same. But then Major Mattoon said, “Conkey, stop fiddling with the broom and leave us.”

  “I was just cleaning up a bit, sir,” I said.

  “Just leave us.” He turned to the other men. “It’s just what I’ve been saying. You can’t even trust your own servants anymore. The boy’s brother-in-law is in the thick of it with the Regulators. Now obviously he’s hanging about in hopes of picking up some scrap of information.”

  I blushed. “No sir, I was just—”

  “I wasn’t speaking to you, Conkey. You’ll speak when spoken to. Now leave.” I left, furious with them and raging inside. I was determined I’d get a look at that paper.

  But how? With Major Mattoon already suspicious of me it wasn’t going to be easy. I kept out of his way as much as possible the rest of the day. The three visitors stayed for dinner, and with that extra company, I had to help Jasper wait on table. There was a lot of talk about the Regulators and the chances of a real revolution, but most of it was just general talk and wasn’t any help to me. After dinner the men went back to the library to drink their port, and I worked with Jasper cleaning up the dining room and washing the dishes. And all the while my mind was whirling: How was I going to get the library key? Because once I got into the library, I could have the lock out of the cabinet in two minutes. After that it would only take me five minutes to read over the paper with General Lincoln’s plans on it, and another couple of minutes to put the lock back in the cabinet door. But how would I get into the library?

  We put away the last of the dishes. “I’m going off,” Jasper said. I figured he was going someplace with the maid. “Wash off the table and sweep up the dining room floor. Then you can go to bed.” He left, and I got a wet rag, went into the dining room, and began washing the crumbs off the table top. A few minutes later, Major Mattoon and the three men came down the corridor and out toward the front door. The major gave me a look as they went through, but I just kept on working. I finished up the table and began sweeping the floor. I could hear Major Mattoon saying good-bye to his guests. Then in a moment he was coming back. “Conkey,” he said, “clear the bottle and glasses out of the library when you finish here. I’m going to bed.”

  My heart began to quicken. “Yes, sir,” I said. I took my time about sweeping up. I wanted to make sure Major Mattoon was really gone before I went into the library. When I heard his footsteps on the stairs, I got the dustpan out of the pantry, swept the crumbs into it, and dumped them into the fireplace. Then I went softly down the corridor to the library.

  I stood in the middle of the room looking around. The dirty glasses and the empty port bottle stood on the table. The candles were burning low. For a moment I just listened. The house was silent. Major Mattoon had gone to bed. Still, I wanted to get it done as fast as possible. Quickly, I closed the library door, and then I went over to the desk. I needed something I could use for a screwdriver to get the screws out of the brass plate over the lock. There was nothing on the desk that would work. I knew that Major Mattoon would have a letter knife somewhere. I opened the top drawer to the desk. There was one there, among a jumble of pens and things. I took it out, and that was when the door slammed open and Major Mattoon and Jasper marched into the room. Jasper was carrying a pistol, and Major Mattoon was carrying a quirt.

  “You cur, you little scum,” the Major shouted. “I take you in to save McColloch’s oxen and this is what you do to me. I should have known it all the time. I should have known from the start that you were spying on me.”

  I backed up against the cabinet. “I wasn’t spying, sir.” I was pretty scared.

  “You little liar. Why did you think I told you to clear up in here?”

  It had been a trap. I didn’t say anything.

  He came around the desk and put his face up close to mine. “Oh, I caught you that time, Conkey. And now I’ve got you. What have you taken of mine?”

  “Nothing, sir. I haven’t taken anything.” I felt cold and dead white.

  “Answer, what have you taken?” Jasper was standing behind the Major, a bit at the side, holding the pistol. I wondered if he’d shoot if I tried to make a break for it.

  All of a sudden Major Mattoon hit me across the face with the whip. My head jerked back and smacked against the cabinet. The whole side of my face stung like fury. “Answer me,” he shouted.

  “I never took anything,” I said. I could feel blood trickling into my mouth.

  “You liar. You dirty little liar. I’m going to beat you within an inch of your life.” He raised the whip again. I ducked my head forward and
covered my face with my arms. The whip cut across the top of my head. I tried to cover my head better. He swung again, the whip slashing across my arms and catching me on the forehead.

  “Stop,” I shouted. “Please stop.”

  “What have you stolen?”

  “Nothing.” I lowered my arms to look at him. There was blood on my shirt and when I touched my face, blood came away on my hands. One of my eyes ached horribly. I wondered if he had hurt it badly. “I never stole anything.”

  He stared at me. Then suddenly without warning he slapped upward with the whip and hit me under the chin. I filled with rage. “If you hit me again I’m going to kill you,” I shouted.

  He stared at me. “Shoot him, Jasper,” he said. “I’ve caught him thieving in my house, I’ve a right to shoot him.”

  “Major—”

  “Shoot him. He threatened to kill me.”

  “Major Mattoon, I—”

  “That’s an order, Jasper.”

  I looked at Jasper. He didn’t raise the pistol. “I can’t, Major.”

  ‘Then give me the pistol.”

  He turned to take the gun and I broke and ran. I bounced off the major, shoving him against the desk, and then I fled through the library door, through the darkened house, slamming into furniture, and out the front door into the yard. I ran on, down the long driveway under the line of trees, through the gate, and out onto the road. Then I stopped to look back. There was nobody behind me; nobody was following. I waited to see if I heard the sound of horses being harnessed, or people shouting. It was quiet. I began to jog up the road, heading for home.

  Chapter Seven

  SO THAT WAS THE END OF THAT. I SETTLED back in at the farm. I was glad to be there, happy to be home, and happy not to have to take orders from Jasper and Major Mattoon. Of course, Peter was in a rage when he saw my face with the whip slashes on it. He wanted to go right into Amherst and beat Major Mattoon to a pulp. But Molly and I calmed him down, because we knew he might murder the major, or else get shot by somebody while he was doing it. The wounds would heal in time.