Suddenly hoofbeats clattered on the lane. A single horse cantered up. With eyes wild at the sight of the flames, it reared, hooves slicing at the smoky air. The two riders managed to slide off the horse’s back unhurt. For the moment, I had eyes only for the taller of the two. It was Will, dressed from head to toe as a Continental cavalryman. In his hand was his old hand-carved cane, which he brandished over his head in fury as he shouted at the mob. “Shame, shame on you all! Is this how we are to build a new nation? By burning one another’s homes?” Under his torrent of scathing words, the rampaging mob rapidly dwindled into a knot of ten chastened men.
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