The Revolution

4|My Shot

Quick Notice- Upon further research I have discovered that following the Boston Massacre  in 1770, all troops in Boston were removed and did not return until the Intolerable Acts. At the beginning of this story there are British soldiers in Boston right before the Acts are announced, so I will be fixing that. 

July 24, 1774

"Now boys," Andrew Harrison leaned forward, dealing out cards to soldiers sitting at a round table. "Cribbage is a game of upmost focus and concentration."

The sound of rain hitting the tavern's roof was comforting for many of the soldiers tucked inside, awaiting the end of the storm. Candle light flickered along the walls of the tavern, and a crackling fire sat in the hearth. The room was filled with smoke from pipes and cigars and the air reeked of tobacco, whiskey, and the unwashed bodies of soldiers.

"To trick your opponent," Harrison went on, leaning back in his chair, studying his cards. He looked up at the men around him, "You gotta-" Something outside caught his eye, and he squinted past the wavy glass of a window pane, trying to determine what it was. He watched as a feminine figure ran down the street, a cloak whirling behind her.

His eyes widened as he witnessed the scene folding out before him. His heart jolted with fear and he jumped out of his chair, the wooden legs scraping against the floor of the tavern. A black stallion, its saddle empty of a rider, reared up above the young woman. As the horse came down, it's front hoof kicked the back of her head, whipping it to the side. The horse, still bridled with fear, galloped down the street, leaving the young lady in a crumpled heap on the rain washed street.

Harrison pushed himself from the table, scrambling for the door, the call of his comrades but distant white noise. Blood rushed in his ears as he threw the door open, sprinting into the slanted rain, instantly becoming drenched.

He knelt beside her, his eyes doing their best to asses the damage. Gingerly he turned her over, instantly recognizing her as the strong-willed Eden Williams, who he had met a few days prior. His eyes roamed past her pale face and blue lips to the wound on her head, her hair soaked with water and matted with blood.

"Doctor!" He turned and roared to his comrades who stood in the doorway of the tavern. "We need a doctor! Now!"

Major John Pitcairn, commander of the 600 British Marines stationed in Boston, watched Andrew Harrison form the doorway. Andrew Harrison was a captain in command of one of the Major's ten regiments, among seven other captains and three field officers. Major Pitcairn had always admired Captain Harrison, with him being so young to have such a rank and to command a regiment of soldiers himself. Despite his age he led his men very well, and Major Pitcairn was beyond satisfied with his performance. Harrison was close with all his men, boosting morale and forming bonds of trust within his regiment.

Major Pitcairn turned, ordering something of a soldier. The soldier ran from the tavern, sprinting into the small stables beside the building. After a short moment the stable doors burst open, and the soldier, mounted on a chestnut mare, galloped up the street, his figure bent against the rain.

The Major came to stand beside Harrison, not minding as he became soaked through with rain. Lightening flashed and thunder boomed, and the Major yelled to be heard over the rain. "I've sent for one of the greatest physicians in Boston, it won't be long!"

Harrison nodded, "Should we move her?" He was unsure if further injury would occur if she was jostled around to much.

"Yes," The Major nodded, "I'll have a room prepared for her."

...

My body felt numb and lifeless.

I blinked rapidly as the world came rushing back to me. A throbbing pain sat in the back of my skull, pulsing like a hot coal. Sunlight filtered sleepily thorough the drawn curtains of a room, and I squinted, trying to gain a sense of my surroundings. Sudden fear gripped me as I realized that I had no idea where I was, frantically I tried to sit up, pushing away the many layers of comforters and blankets.