Freedom

Freedom

Gail D Prentice

Cory stood helplessly at the counter of the general store. Just under the scratched glass countertop was the rifle of his choice. The sixty-caliber long rifle, slightly used, and only two scratches on the hand polished stock was his dream. But for three dollars, it was far from his reach financially. With the revolution growing closer to home every day, he so dearly wanted that rifle that he might do his duty for his community and family.

“It is a beauty,” Cory commented quietly as he gazed longingly through the glass.

“Do you want to hold it son,” the store owner asked?

“Could I?”

Mr. Stone put a cloth pad down and then reached under the glass. He carefully retrieved the rifle as if it were the most valuable possession in the store. He placed it on the cloth pad on the countertop and smiled.

“Go ahead and pick it up. Get the feel of it. A rifle that doesn’t feel comfortable in your hands is not worth a thing. You might as well have a stick to go chasing those Brits with and then shout bang.” Mr. Stone laughed heartily, and he pushed the rifle into the waiting hands of a young man almost drooling over the thought of holding it.

“This will take the eyelashes off a Redcoat at three hundred yards,’" Mr. Stone said confidently. “How old are you sonny?”

“I’m sixteen. I am old enough to shoot holes in any Redcoat that comes into town,” Cory bristled up proudly.

“I know that you are,” Mr. Stone smiled. “I have a proposal for you. You look like a young man that is not afraid of work. Would I be right?”

“I have to take care of Mom. Dad volunteered and is off in Georgia somewhere fighting the Redcoats, but I am not afraid of work. What do you have in mind?”

“When you finish your chores at home, I want you to come down here and help me around the store. That is if your mother will allow it. If you will help me until those stinking Redcoats show up within ten miles of here, I will give you that longrifle along with all of the powder and balls that you can shoot until we have won the war.”

“Really?” Cory burst out with a smile and tears.

“I will do that,” Mr. Stone promised. “Tell your momma that I would like to speak to her at her earliest convenience.”

Cory held the gun rigidly to his shoulder and pointed it at the calendar on the wall with a bear drawn on it. He then shouldered it like a marching soldier, turn sharply on his heel and faced Mr. Stone.

He then carefully handed the rifle back to Mr. Stone. “Fine piece of engineering and craftsmanship, Mr. Stone. You have a deal as long as Mom says it is okay, and she will.”

Cory walked quickly from the general store and headed at a quick pace to the north, three miles home, carrying the dry goods he had picked up for his mother.

As soon as he delivered the package to his mother, he nearly ordered, “Mr. Stone wants to see you as soon as possible. He has a business proposition to discuss with you. Would you like me to hitch up the buggy?”

“Business proposition. Mercy me, what could that possibly be? Yes, hitch it up. I could sure use some help around here with Carl off fighting the war.”

Four hours later, the buggy carrying Cory and Margret, Cory’s mom, pulled to a stop in front of the general store. As quickly as Cory could move, he positioned himself beside the buggy to help his mother step down.”

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Mr. Stone chuckled as he stepped out the front door of the store. “I didn’t mean it had to be today, Cory.”

“I couldn’t see putting it off until later,” Cory responded with enthusiasm.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stone,” Margret greeted.

“And good afternoon to you, Mrs. Kiser,” Mr. Stone answered as he tipped the brim of his derby. “Please come in. Would you like a glass of water?”

“Thank you,” Margret said as she gracefully swept through the door.

“Please, have a seat,” Mr. Stone offered as he put a wooden straight-backed chair down for her.

“Cory tells me that you have a business proposition for me. What on this earth could that be, Mr. Stone?”

Mr. Stone handed her a glass of cool water and sat in a chair directly in front of her.

“These are very hard times, Mrs. Kiser. The war has taken a toll on business and has taken a toll on our citizens. There are many wounded and it has killed many of our best men.”

“It has been very hard for us women. Carl enlisted shortly after he planted the corn and saw it up. I thank God that I had Cory here to help with the harvest last fall and the planting this spring. I don’t know what I would have done without him,” Margret said softly, holding back tears.

“I understand,” Mr. Stone said as he stood and placed a caring hand on her shoulder. “What I want to know,” he continued, “Would it be possible for Cory to come down and help me do things around here after he is finished with his chores at home? I don’t know what you heard… Let me rephrase that. I don’t know if Cory had a chance to tell you of the offer I made him, but I told him that if he could work for me until the war was over or the Redcoats were ten miles from town, I would give him that Kentucky Long Rifle over there and all the powder and balls he could shoot…”

“So Cory can go off to war also?” Margret interrupted. “That will leave me here with two very young boys of five and twelve to do a man’s work around here!”

“If the Redcoats get this close to home, I fear that that is going to be the least of our worries, Mrs. Kiser. We are far enough away from the fracas now, that if they get this close, we are very close to losing the war. It will be the young men, like Cory that will deliver to us a victory. If we are going to survive, we will need men just like Cory that are willing to fight for our freedom.

“I am too old to do much good, other than provide powder and balls. That three dollar rifle and all the powder and balls is a very small price to pay for our freedom, don’t you think, Mrs. Kiser?

“I realize that he is your main provider at the moment, but if it comes to that, rest assured, us older men will step up and help with the harvests and plantings. That is what neighbors and citizens do.”

“That is what patriots do,” Cory entered the conversation. “I don’t want to go to war, Mom, but I will if necessary, to protect my community and family.”

Mrs. Kiser dipped her head as tears dropped onto her shawl. She sat there quietly. She didn’t nod her head yes or no. After a few moments, she raised her head. Her eyes were clear and boldly set on Mr. Stone. “I will agree to this with one stipulation!”

“With the shortcomings in the finances, I ask that you carry my account until such time as I can repay you in full. Should it be that I cannot pay you what I owe, I will deed the farm to you…”

“I could never do that…” Mr. Stone jumped in quickly.

“You will or Cory will not be in your employ.”

Mrs. Kiser stood to her feet and extended her hand to him. He stood to his feet and took her hand firmly. They shook for a moment and then dropped their grip, both smiling broadly.

“I’ll do you proud, Mr. Stone,” Cory said as he stood to his feet also and extended a hand.

“I know that you will,” Mr. Stone answered. “Now, get that rifle, a tin of powder and a box of balls. You will need some target practice if you are going to put food on the table for your family and me. I am too old and too clumsy to go traipsing around hunting for food.”

“Serious?” Cory almost shouted.

“Serious.” Mr. Stone said with his handshake.

Two years later, the war raged on and was drawing closer to the western side of Pennsylvania. Carl had been able to get a letter delivered to home five times, though he had written scores of letters. Each letter told of horrifying battles and how he had been delivered from harm so many times. He had on received minor injuries and was steadfast in his quest to drive the British back to the sea.

“They are here!” shouted the mailman as he ran through the streets toward the Post Office. “The British are moving this way!”

Mr. Stone looked at Cory and nodded. They knew that it was now time to make their stand. They each grabbed their rifles and ran to the east edge of town. Cory took a bold stand in the middle of the road and Mr. Stone moved to cover on the north side.

As soon as the Redcoats rounded the curve, Cory took aim and fired a single round. When the smoke cleared, two Redcoats lay on the road and others were scrambling away. That was the last anybody saw of the Redcoats.

Mr. Stone stood from his cover position and walked to Cory, placed his hand on his shoulder and said, “Well done.”

The next day, news was being reported that the war was over, and the United States was free from British rule.

Mr. Stone trekked to the Kiser farm to deliver the news. He stood tall and proud as he addressed Cory. “We now have our freedom, Mr. Kiser. Do you think we can keep it?”