Trapped

January 1780 was the most bitter winter that Jedson had ever experienced, and he’d been hunting and trapping in this part of the Smoky Mountains for nearly 20 years. He was 50 and too old to join the local Virginia regiment to fight the Redcoats. No, Jed was much happier using his keen tracking sense to find beaver, than wasting time and musket balls on the British. Trudging through the sweet pine needles and snowpack, he carefully and quietly made his way through the area near the Shenandoah Ridge. Six feet tall and lean, he resembled a gnarly apple tree with gangly arms and legs, so he had to work hard to be quiet. Making his way to a clearing in the distance, he shoved his long, brown, disheveled hair under his cap and rewrapped his hands with pelts to keep from getting frostbite. His lined and leathered face portrayed 50 years of wilderness living. His destination was a cabin on the other side of the clearing that served as a welcome respite from the elements. 

Forging through the dense forest towards the clearing, snow swirling around him, he thought he saw tendrils of smoke coming from his cabin, the icy winter wind pushing against him, slowing his progress and vision. Leaning his body into the wind and digging his feet in the snow, he could make better headway. 

The closer he got, the more confident he became he was not alone out here. His sixth sense kicked in as he pulled his musket off of his shoulder and prepared his musket balls and powder. Sneaking up to the cabin and maneuvering around the snowbanks, he slowly snuck up to the hard wooden door that was slightly ajar. Snapping his musket up to eye level, he pushed the muzzle quietly against the door to open it further and saw black boots, white leggings, and a hint of a scarlet coat seated next to the fire.

“I would be very careful of your next move, rebel. It may be your last.” 

Jed pushed open the door so hard it banged against the wall, jarring the door frame. 

“I have the musket, so I think I’m the one that has the most to gain from this situation.” Jed inched closer to the British soldier and took notice of the fact that he couldn’t have been over 22 years old, and the pristine condition of his uniform gave away the fact that he probably hadn’t seen many battles. However, it also meant that an outpost or regiment was close by. 

Standing up, the Redcoat addressed Jed. “What is your name, sir?” 

Not lowering the musket, Jed answered, “Who wants to know?”

Stepping closer to Jed, the soldier snapped to attention. “Reginald Guy, second lieutenant, King’s guard.” 

“You’re in my house Reginald, so get out or I’ll blow your head off.”

Stepping a few feet closer, Lt. Guy held up both hands in a symbolic gesture of surrender. “You’ll want to hear what I have to say before you shoot me.”

James Thomas pulled the thin burlap bag up over his shoulders, flipping the end onto his head for protection from the blinding snow. His hands were numb from the bone-chilling cold, weathered and raw from fieldwork. It nearly frostbit his feet after days of running and foraging after leaving Richmond. James sang some hymns his mother taught him to keep his mind occupied away from the pain. Traveling by foot for days, exhausted, starving, and nearly dead from the cold when he came across a cabin in the middle of a field. Watching the smoke rise from the chimney, he knew God had answered his prayers for sanctuary. As he trudged through the snow, he imagined warmth, safety and perhaps even leftover dried meat and his pace increased into a jog, his breath ragged and heart racing. He finally reached the path to the cabin. The door was wide open and his first thought was wolf. Having no weapon to defend himself, he crept cautiously toward the door to find a mountain man pointing a musket at an oddly calm redcoat. 

Lt. Guy glanced towards the door. “Well, Jed, we have a visitor. From his disheveled appearance, I would guess he’s traveled a far distance.” Guy took a step to get closer to Thomas, as Jed cocked his musket. 

“One more step and your coat won’t be the only red thing in here.” Without taking his eyes off the lieutenant, Jed motioned with a quick head turn.

“You, get in here and over by the fire where I can see you.” Thomas stepped inside and slowly headed to the warmth of the fireplace, his chilled face and limbs welcoming the roaring heat from the hearth, frozen clothing melting and dripping onto the earthen floor, forming tiny mud puddles around his feet. 

Jed looked him up and down like he was a prize heifer. “Where you from?” 

Too frightened to answer, James stood still, shivering.

“Boy, I ain’t got time as you can see. I’ve got a previous engagement with the lieutenant here. “

“Richmond, I come from Richmond, sir. My name is James Thomas.”

“I didn’t ask your name and I don’t care what it is. If they have followed you, then I’m sure we are about to get some more company.” Keeping both men in sight and holding the lieutenant in musket range. “Now lieutenant, you were going to share some information before I shot you.” 

Lt. Guy boldly pushed the musket down with his hand. “Sir, I must tell you that no one is going to get out of here alive unless you and now Mr. Thomas listen to exactly what I say. I ended up here because I went on my own scouting expedition and my horse bolted and threw me. After walking for a day, cold and famished, I found your cabin and made myself at home. I am confident that there is a contingent of privates from my regiment out searching for me, and they are likely about a day away from discovering all of us.”

Jed relaxed enough to lean his musket behind him against the wall. “Why should I believe you? 

“You have a choice. We all do. Mr. Thomas made a choice to leave what I can only assume was a horrible situation with a slave owner. I made a choice to leave my regiment in a snowstorm in January.” Looking toward the roaring fire, he continued. “This war is useless and I can see, based on the chaos and bloodshed I have already witnessed, that the Americans will not stop until we are gone. Or dead. I can’t do it anymore and I am making the difficult decision of deserting the King’s army and staying here to make a life. A life of freedom - something I’m sure Mr. Thomas desperately wants as well. I have a plan that I think will work if we follow it. Something that will get us what we want. Are you gentlemen interested? Jed leaned against the wall, protecting the musket, and glanced over at John, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Alright, we’re listening.”

Bursting through the door of the cabin, four redcoat scouts barrelled in with muskets raised, only to find a lone survivor. Bloodied and laying on the cold earthen floor was a man in a British uniform. Coat ripped, white pants spotted with blood. The contingent feared their leader was dead. The bravest of the bunch grabbed the man’s right shoulder to turn him over and discovered a barely breathing Jed.

“Bloody British bastard knocked me out and stole my slave. Said something about heading to North Carolina. I hope the worthless wretch freezes to death,” spitting out blood and a tooth or two. “Make sure you catch him and hang him by his balls.”