“No, sir,” I lied. “I’m quite comfortable with the extra blanket. And I will read until you tell me to stop . . . or until the candle goes out.”
“Very well.”
I padded back to my chair, tucked my feet beneath me to keep them from freezing, and began where I’d left off. I found the commentary fascinating and read for at least half an hour without ceasing.
My candle flickered, spent, and the chapter ended. I set the book aside, marking my place with a wild turkey feather I’d picked up that morning when I’d hung out the wash.
The general’s breathing was steady and deep, and I eased the door between us closed and crawled into my berth, filled with more peace than I’d ever known.
General Paterson requisitioned the chestnut horse from the Tarrytown skirmish for my use. It was kept with Lenox and the other officers’ horses in the garrison stables, and I rode him all over the Point and on various errands with and on behalf of the general. The horse had a marvelous, unflappable disposition, and I called him Common Sense, which suited him perfectly and made the general smile.
In early March, we experienced a week of unseasonal warmth that thawed the ice in the Hudson and melted the snow, and the general made plans, along with Colonel Kosciuszko, to check the fortifications along the river while the weather was fair. Grippy and I packed the saddlebags and readied the horses for a few days’ travel, and the four of us, along with a small mounted detachment who were returning to Verplanck’s Point, set out to make inspections.
Even the horses were eager to be off, and the weather held, making the travel to Stony Point exceedingly pleasant. Agrippa and I fell into conversation, following behind the general and the colonel as they spoke of buttressing this and building that and what would happen to West Point when the war ended.
“Kosciuszko wants me to go to Poland with him when he goes back,” Agrippa said abruptly, as if the matter had been weighing on him. “There’s not much left for him to do here, and he’s got trouble in his own country.”
I gaped, thrilled for him. “Poland? He wants you to go to Poland? How wonderful. I am desperate to see the world.”
Grippy screwed up his lips and furrowed his brow, like he didn’t think it was wonderful at all.
“You don’t want to see the world?” I asked. “To explore?”
“I want to explore my world. America. That’s what this war is all about, isn’t it? This land right here.” He pointed his finger at the ground we traversed. “I don’t want to go to Poland. I want to go home. Me and General Paterson both. He’s a barrister, you know. He’s been teaching me. Even gave me some of his books from Yale. I can read. Maybe I’ll become a barrister too. So I know my rights. So I know the laws.”
I wondered if the general would teach me too or if Grippy would let me see his books. He continued.
“The British put the word out to all the African folk. They said if you fight with us, we give you your freedom when the war is over. But they’re promising things they won’t, or can’t, deliver on. What if they don’t win? Then what? You fight against your neighbors? Maybe kill some of ’em? I’m not going to England or Poland when this is over. I’m staying right here. Here is better than anything they can promise. They can’t give me what God already bestowed.”
“Certain unalienable rights,” I interjected, nodding.
“That’s right. I am a free man. I was born free in Massachusetts. Going to die free in Massachusetts. When this is all over, I’m going back to Stockbridge.”
“That is near Lenox, isn’t it? Where the general is from?”
“That’s right. I have an acre of land. I’m going to get more too. Build a house. Find a woman I like looking at, one who likes looking at me. Have some children.”
“Me too,” I said, not thinking. I was still stuck on the part about being born free and dying free, but Grippy laughed, a great rolling sound that shook his chest and his shoulders.
“You hear that, General? Bonny wants a woman and babies.” Grippy always called me Bonny.
General Paterson and Colonel Kosciuszko had stopped talking and were looking back at us. I hunched my shoulders and bowed my head, willing Grippy to hush.
“So do you have a girl back home in . . . where did you say you were from?” Grippy asked, still grinning.
I ignored half of his question. “No, I don’t have a girl. No girl.”
“I think you’re lying to me, Bonny. Your cheeks are all pink, and you’re blinking like you’ve got someone in mind.”