Chapter 6—Carrying Independence: Weekly Historical Novel Serialization
Welcome to Week 6 of my Carrying Independence serialization! Each Wednesday, I'll share another chapter as we count down to America's 250th birthday.
Today in Chapter 6, Nathaniel will return home to deliver devastating news about the Declaration of Independence while family tensions over the gun shop business reach a breaking point. (Chapter one began here.)
Chapter 6
THE WOODS EDGING NATHANIEL'S family property seemed disagreeable. Normally, they were his last sweet taste of wilderness before returning to the gun shop. However, as he crossed Saucony Creek, the babbling brook cried as he knew his mother would, and he decided to wait until morning to tell her about the Declaration. Riding through the looming shadows of white oaks lining the road to their farm, he turned cold at the thought of hiding it from her. So, when the fields of green corn bowed down in the wind, he hung his head with resignation. Then the four-room stone house came into view. Smoke curled from the chimney, bringing with it the smell of his mother's pork and beer stew. Perhaps it could wait until after dinner.
At the sound of Bayard's hooves coming up the drive, his father and Peter left the crates they had been loading near the gun shop to meet him in the yard. His father stopped short when he saw what Peter had already seen: no quarry. When his mother came out of the house to wave from the porch, the towering Eastern Hemlock her father had planted at the corner of their home cast its long shadow across her. She took one look at Nathaniel's face and her hand fell to her throat.
Nathaniel dropped from Bayard and summoned the words, "Congress has declared independence."
"Dear God. We are separated." Jane Marten sank onto the top step, a fist clinging to her empire waist. Joseph rushed to sit with her, and only once in his embrace was Jane able to speak through her tears. "I still feel… I am English. Where does this leave me? Us?"
Nathaniel told them about the call for more men to enlist, and the oaths they were expected to sign.
His mother shivered. "Did you—"
Nathaniel shook his head. "Against you?"
Jane closed her eyes and sagged into the curve of Joseph's embrace, bereaving with her for the loss of distant in-laws he had never met. Looking at their despondent faces, Nathaniel wished it had been a message from the Express he'd delivered. Not knowing the contents of a letter or its recipient, meant not being responsible for whatever it contained. And yet, in this moment, wasn't it better that her own son, and not some stranger, had broken such news?
It was then Nathaniel realized that Peter, during these last few moments, had kept his hands stuffed in his pockets and his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. Nathaniel groaned. He had seen that look many times before. Once, he and Peter had come home from school splattered in mud, their knuckles bleeding from an altercation with the Thomson triplets. Peter had claimed the three boys had bullied Nathaniel, then his teeth gnawed on that bottom lip. When their father eventually heard that Peter and his thuggish friends—a gang he had fallen into when he turned thirteen—had begun it, Peter received a lashing for the lie, and Nathaniel was given one for going along with it.
As his brother now stared at the dirt, Nathaniel kicked a rock toward him. "You already knew."
Peter caught the rock beneath the toe of his shoe. "Of course." His voice was even, as if relaying the weather.
"What's this?" Joseph said, looking between the two boys.
Jane raised her head, confused.
"When? How did you hear about the Declaration?" Nathaniel asked.
Peter waved a dismissive hand toward the crates stacked outside the gun shop. "I received word that a ship is waiting in Philadelphia to carry our firearms and a Pennsylvania battalion to New York. Just after the vote."
"That was a week ago. Who wrote you?" Nathaniel asked, but the only sound came from the blacksmiths near the gun shop hammering one of the crates shut. The banging rang out across their land. Like gunfire itself.
"An old acquaintance now in Philadelphia." Peter picked up the pebble, and rolled it in his fingers.
"What else does he want?" Nathaniel's jaw tightened, hating that he had to draw out the details. When silence filled the yard again, his father stomped a foot.
"Your brother asked you a direct question, and by God you'll answer it. For all of us."
"He wants to discuss a different offer, about more supplies. For the army. I've agreed to meet him." He flung the insignificant stone across the yard. "War brings with it opportunity. I have to grasp it. You may no longer be British, Mother, but this American gun shop can turn a nice profit from it."
Nathaniel winced, but his mother moved from weeping to standing.
"War or no war this business is here because of your father and grandfather." Jane Marten demanded to have Peter's eye as she spoke. "I happily married a fine artisan, not a military supplier."
Nathaniel knew it to be true. At nineteen, his mother had met Joseph Marten selling his rifles in the Philadelphia market square. She said he described each piece, "like a painter describes a woman," making the man she was betrothed to seem "as dry as old bricks." She had not pleaded with her father to end the other engagement. She had told him it was over. Even now, with her sharp words directed at Peter, one hand rested tenderly on Joseph's shoulder, and his hand was united with hers.
"I won't see you gamble our legacy on the idea of profit alone," Joseph added. Although he was still seated, he spoke from a position of authority. "Do not accept short-term gains at a long-term cost greater than we are able to pay."
Nathaniel's father's words were wisdom gained by experience. His younger, rebellious brother had died during the first year of the French and Indian War. The gun shop was further strained when the battles spilled into Pennsylvania, and Joseph struggled alongside his aging father. With each day of those seven lean years he helped them survive, Joseph's reluctance to enlist was reinforced as a wise decision.
"Be mindful of with whom you align in Philadelphia," Joseph said to Peter. His eyes tracked to Nathaniel. "That goes for you, too."
Their mother wiped at her cheeks and tightened her apron strings. "You can plan your journey after dinner, and I will write a letter to my family for you to post."
Later, with all of them seated before serving their stew, they joined hands as the last vestiges of the setting sun cast crimson upon them through the kitchen window. The candles on the table flickered in their pewter holders, illuminating the gouges in the wood and the creases of worry on Nathaniel's parents' faces. Peter stared at his empty plate avoiding everyone's gaze. Nathaniel sat across from him, finding it appropriate that he and his brother were connected only by way of both parents.
"May God grant the King mercy on his children." Jane led the prayer. "May we be brethren living in freedom and joy, no longer enemies in this war—"
When her voice faltered, Nathaniel squeezed her hand. His mother managed a warm smile, returned his gesture. And then she let go.
Join us next week as Nathaniel, Arthur, and Peter journey to Philadelphia to arrive in a city transformed by war.
Fun Fact
When families were forced to choose sides during the Declaration of Independence, English-born mothers like Jane Marten faced a heartbreaking triple bind—feeling authentically English, wanting to become American, yet suddenly vulnerable to persecution for their heritage.
This chapter is part of "Carrying Independence," a historical novel following the journey of the Declaration of Independence as Nathaniel, a reluctant Post rider, gathered the signatures needed to unite America. If you're enjoying Nathaniel's story and don't want to wait for the next installment, autographed copies of the complete novel are available here.