Read Online Fever 1793 by Laurie Halse Anderson - Free Book Online

me around and gave me a shove toward the wagon.
    "Thought you said the old man was coming," the farmer said as he tied down the valise.
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    "Have patience," I said. "Here he comes."
    Grandfather stepped onto the porch dressed in his regimental jacket, his sword buckled onto his belt, and King George on his shoulder.
    He saluted.
    "Captain William Farnsworth Cook, Pennsylvania Fifth Regiment, here to escort you beyond the lines of the dread and terrible enemy, Yellow Fever, Miss Matilda."
    He clicked his boots together and offered his arm to me. Eliza laughed as she wiped her eyes with her apron. Grandfather helped me climb up into the wagon before hoisting himself aboard with a grunt. King George circled overhead and squawked. The farmer yelled, "Giyup!" and cracked the whip across the back of the horse.
    And so I left home, in a manner quite unpredicted.
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    CHAPTER ELEVEN
    September th, 1793
    Great numbers of the citizens have shut up their houses and fled into the country...
    -Letter of Ebenezer Hazard Philadelphia, 1793
    With only one half-starved horse pulling us, it took nearly an hour to be clear of the city line. The dry road was rutted from the wagons and carriages which had fled before us. The insects were vicious. I smacked them on my arms and legs until my skin stung. Grandfather took out his handkerchief and mopped sweat off his face and neck. I waved away a mosquito that buzzed in my ear.
    "It's the smell of that baby," I said. "His drawers are full, and it's attracting every bug for miles."
    Grandfather chuckled. The laughter caught in his throat and made him cough. I watched with alarm as his face reddened. I pounded his back until he raised his arm in protest.
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    "I'm fine, child, I'm fine. No need to beat me senseless."
    The farmer turned around in his seat and glared at them.
    "He ain't sick, is he? I'll not have fever victims in my wagon."
    "Take care you don't drive off the road. We're fine back here. Mind your horse," I snapped.
    Grandfather raised an eyebrow.
    "You're turning into a regular scold, Mattie Cook. You sound like your mother, ordering menfolk around."
    "Some menfolk need ordering."
    "That they do." He straightened his legs as best he could between the baskets and clothing bundles. "I propose we enjoy our carriage ride in the country. It would hardly be proper to remove my coat, but if I can beg my lady's indulgence, I will unfasten a button or two." His stiff fingers fumbled with the pewter buttons until they released and he could breathe with ease.
    "There," he sighed. "That's better. It's time to review your soldiering lessons."
    I groaned. From my crawling days, Grandfather had taught me all the tricks of the American and the British armies, and quite a few from the French. Again and again and again. It would do no good to argue. I was his captive.
    "A soldier needs three things to fight," he continued. He held up three fingers and waited for my response.
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    "One, a sturdy pair of boots," I said. "Two, a full belly. Three, a decent night's sleep."
    Grandfather thunked his boots on the floorboards.
    "Hey," protested the farmer.
    "My boots are sound."
    Grandfather belched.
    "Tsk, tsk," said the farmer's wife.
    "Eliza fed me breakfast enough for two blacksmiths."
    He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes and settled back against a rolled-up mattress.
    "And now I'm going to get some sleep before our coachman delivers us unto the joys of the Ludington family barnyard and their odiferous pigs."
    "Pigs," echoed King George.
    I settled in alongside him so my head rested on his chest. The rhythmic turning of the wagon wheels, the hum of insects in the barley fields along the road, and the beat of Grandfather's heart blended into a lullaby.
    I woke when the wheels stopped turning. I had to shield my eyes from the sun.
    "Why are we stopping?" I asked. The farmer didn't answer, but pointed up the road. The baby cried.
    Four horsemen armed with muskets blocked our way.
    Robbers! I felt