Boston 1774

“Under the act instituted by Parliament, any colonist in the city of Boston must agree to the act of quartering soldiers in his or her household.” The soldiers in red coats with tricorner hats stood outside my door. By the style of their uniforms and hats, they were officers. Officers in the King’s Royal Army. ~~*~~ Allow me to back up just a few hours into my day. It was June 6th, a warm day for Boston, but an average day. I was 25 years old and lived with my brother Noah.  Earlier that day, Noah left to go work with my father at his candle shop. I was left alone at the house, so I started by going to the garden and pulling and picking what fruits and vegetables were ripe enough to eat. There was a wide assortment, ranging from lettuce, tomatoes, and peppers, to figs and apples.   I opened the cellar door on the side of the house and walked slowly down the stairs so I didn’t fall. The air was damp and cool, and the room very dark. Once I was down the stairs I lit a candle and sorted the fruits and vegetables. I picked out what I needed for supper and walked back to the stairs, snuffing out the light on the way out. Once out of the cellar, I placed the basket to the side. I turned away from the basket and locked the cellar door, tucking the key into my apron. I picked up the basket and walked back to the front of the house, looking down both sides of the street. We lived on a back street of Boston, boys were chasing each other around, but going no further than the center of the street. The street wasn’t very busy, but occasionally carriages or horses rode through, most often with British riders. I put the basket down beside the front door to open it, but once I had turned my back, quick footsteps approached my door then dashed off. I spun around, finding a boy who had grabbed one of my tomatoes, running down the street. “Hey!” I didn’t run after the boy, but I went down the front steps and watched where he was going. For one, I was a lady, and ladies didn’t run, especially in dresses. And second, I had plenty of tomatoes, and missing just one wasn’t that big of a deal.  I watched as the boy ran and looked back at me to see if I was chasing him, taking his eyes off of the street. In a few seconds, the boy ran into a British soldier, who grabbed the front of his shirt to keep him from falling and caught the tomato. Being too far down the street to hear what was happening, I turned back towards the house with the basket and closed the door once inside. I walked to the back and into the kitchen, placed the basket by the Franklin stove, and covered it with a towel. I wiped my hands off on my apron and put the key in a vase on the mantle. I walked to the front door and pulled the broom from a closet on the way there. I pushed the latch down on the door and pulled it open, but stopped and took a step back. A few feet from me, was the soldier from down the street, with his hand ready to knock on my door.  “How may I help you?” I asked him, leaning the broom against the wall so I was ready to help him. He took a second to respond, but eventually said, “I believe this was stolen from you.” He held out the tomato, and I took it. “I’m also looking for a place to stay.” There it was. The reason for his coming. A soldier didn’t just walk up to your door to hand back something stolen, they only came to you if they wanted something, and he did. I was unsure of what to say. My brother usually greeted the guests and told them where to go and what to do. I had never done that before. I also never knew how he’d react if I let the soldier in. We looked at each other for a few intense moments. He watched me for a reaction, I gave him none. I watched him, noticing his gun and passive look.  I knew he wasn’t going to give in, so I stepped aside, letting him in, “I’ll need your name please.” He stepped in and took his hat and boots off, then his gun, which he leaned against the wall, ”Private Charles Hall.” He unbuttoned his jacket, showing a white button-up shirt underneath it and handed it to me. “Where can I stay?” “In the guest room.” I carefully folded his jacket in half over my arm.  He didn’t say another word and walked to the stairs, glancing around the house. I watched as he left the room and once he had disappeared I took his coat to the washroom to wash later. I placed it on a side table then went back to the front door and picked up the broom again.  In a few seconds, I had the front porch swept and the broom put away. It wasn’t time to start supper yet, so I started washing the soldier’s coat. The house was quiet, so I assumed he was resting and my brother wasn’t home yet. Within a few hours, I finished making dinner and my brother came home from work. But, as is usual for my brother, he noticed someone else was in the house and approached me about it in the kitchen. At the moment a knock came at the door, I was trying to calm him down. “Noah, Noah. It’s not like I had any choice.” I ran a hand through my loose hair.   He sighed and ran a hand over his face, “But you should have asked me first!” “How could I? You were at work.” I removed supper from the stove and put a towel over it. “Charity! It’s a Redcoat! Yes, the city is crawling with them, but we don’t need them in our house. We have enough trouble feeding ourselves and paying the outrageous taxes!” He slammed his fist on the table making me jump. “Noah… this isn’t how father would want you to react. I understand we are barely supporting ourselves. If you need me, I can get a tutoring job for the boys down the street to earn some extra money. But please don’t get angry.” I pleaded with him, wanting him to calm down and not bring Private Hall’s attention in from the parlor. But there was another reason for my calm reaction. Noah had a temper and always had since the riots in 1770. He had been tenser lately since the leaders of his group, the Sons of Liberty, had fled Boston. “Angry. You think I’m angry. No… I’m furious!” I flinched back at his voice. “Please calm down…” I said, also mentally pleading with him to calm down. He wasn’t the violent type when he’s angry, but he could say things he’d regret later.  “Fine.” He took a deep breath, but his eyes told me he was still angry. He turned on his heel and took the stairs up to his room to calm down.  Over the sound of his footsteps, I missed the first knock. But I didn’t miss the second as it came more forcefully. Whoever it was, hadn’t missed our argument. I took off my apron and walked out of the kitchen and past the parlor. They knocked on the door again, just as forceful as the last time. I quickly unlocked the door and opened it, showing three British soldiers, their horses secured on a post near the street. The soldiers were in red, but the cuffs and trim were a dark blue, telling me they were officers. Another part of their outfit told me this, their tricorner hats. The man whose reddish blonde hair, that reminded me of my own, held himself in such a manner that seemed as if he were in charge. Another had black hair, and also looked as though he commanded respect. But my eyes settled on one in particular. He was tall, with russet-brown hair that was pulled back like the other two and piercing brown eyes. He looked kinder than the others, with an air that reminded me of Noah, but the gentle side. But like his superiors, he looked impatient. Noah is not going to like this. “Can I do something for you sirs?” I asked, glancing back up the stairs to see if Noah heard the knocking. "As soldiers of the Royal British Army, we are entitled to your care. And your place looks like a perfect place to stay. Allow me to introduce us since we will be living with you. I am Colonel Brampton.” the one apparently in charge said. He then  motioned to the man on his left, “Major Miller.” He motioned to the man on his right, the one I’d noticed, “And this is Lieutenant Kirkland.” Without another word, he and the other two pushed past me into the house. There was an awkward moment of silence, then one word from the top of the stairs. “No.”