"You keep Keziah safe, you hear me?"

The man didn't know him and had little reason to trust him, yet William stepped forward to take his hand and reassure him, "I promise you, Samuel ... no harm shall come to your sister, less they go through me first." He leaned in a bit closer and in a whisper added a reassurance that he knew the older brother desperately needed, "No one ... and I mean no one ... will touch your sister ... in any way."

He could see in Samuel's eyes that his meaning was clear, but again William knew Samuel had no reason to trust the stranger. Yet, the doctor must have believed William because soon enough, he and his wife had disappeared into the night leaving the pair alone together.

Oh, well, not entirely alone, of course. As Keziah headed back inside and William shut the door behind her, he looked to the one armed soldier who was once again passed out in his corner chair. William asked if there was anything they needed to do for him, acted accordingly -- including covering him with a blanket -- and then set about making a bed on the floor in front of the door. He explained vaguely to Keziah, "Just in case someone tries to enter during the night."

They chatted a moment more, but William wasn't eager to discuss the impending massacre further this late, so he feigned exhaustion and bid Keziah a good night. He stoked the fire as she turned down the lanterns, and with one final glance at her as she departed for her own room -- and one final ogling of her backside, thinking to himself Not the time or even the era to be thinking that -- William laid down atop the makeshift bed to stare at the light of the dancing flames upon the under side of the cabin's roof.

William had feigned exhaustion to avoid any further discussion of the events of the day or coming days, but apparently he'd been more tired than he'd thought: before he'd had any real time to consider the happenings of the past hours, he was soundly asleep...

...so much so that he didn't know there were intruders in the cabin until one had a hand over his mouth and two others were seizing control of his limbs. William struggled and broke his face free just long enough to scream out, "Keziah, run...!" William couldn't know whether or not she had heard the men before they entered her home; couldn't know whether or not she'd escaped, leaving him behind; couldn't know whether they intruders had gotten her also, because no sooner had he yelled his warning then the lights went out, as they say...

...and when he awoke again, he was bound and gagged in the back of a cart bouncing down a rough road, heading for the Headquarters of the Massachusetts Militia and -- ultimately -- a meeting with the Commander of the patriot forces, General George Washington.

Never before had she been so afraid. Not when she uad seen her mother dead, the baby beside her, or when she lost her first young patient during the birthing process. Those she could handle, hide her tears until she was alone. But now her cheeks were stained with them and no matter how hardshe wiped at her face, they never stopped. Keziah had taken William's advice to run and almost been to freedom when one of the militia men in civilian clothes had tackled her down into the packed dirt road. The soldiers that stormed into her house had likely taken what valuables she had, and theone armed soldier too. She thought of him briefly and she frowned. He could die if he didn't rest and take it easy while he recovered.

Keziah was quietas the cart continued along the road. Much like the man next to her, she was bound and gagged, likely to keep her from screaming. She inched closer to William, despite it not being particularly appropriate. He was a stranger and she was still in her nightgown. When the soldiers had broke intoher home they hadn't given her any time to get dressed. Her nightgown was stained with dirt and a bit of blood from her scraped hands and knees. When she seen that he was stirring, Keziah raised her bound hands towards him, more to check his head than anything else. They hadn't hit her, she was smaller than they were and holding her down to tie her up had been fairly easy. It was fast approaching dawn when they arrived at the camp. Soldiers on watch guarsed the perimeter and tents lined the area surrounding a small house. No doubt that was where whoever had orchestrated this would be.

The cart stopped just short of a small barn and they were unloaded. She was aware of the looks the soldiers were giving her. Some looked at her with pity in their eyes, others had another look in their eyes that made the bad kind of shivers run down her back. They were each held by two soldiers, the ones holding Keziah mentioned that they would find her more suitable clothing. In response she just grunted and was led to what could have beeb a cellar. They wrre forced inside. The cellar had been barred off on one side, giving her an idea that they were in prison now.

The soldiers debated amongst themselves for a bit before deciding that Keziah was better off on the other side of the cell. They had assumed that despite having found William on the ground, that he and Keziah knew each other. Well veyond just knowing each other's names that is. They were kind enough to untie their gags and give them water. "Once we get things sorted out you'll be moved to more comfortable accommodations." The soldier promised her. That promise came sooner than she expected when another man, one of higher rank, came into the cellar and asked to bring the woman.

Keziah didn't want to go with them. She barely knew William but at least she felt comfortable with him. Perhaps it was because Samuel - the thought of her brother made her cry again. The high ranked soldier would have gathered her up into a huf had it been appropriate to do so. With one final glance at William, she was lead away.

The soldier sighed. "We are to question you as well. You were in the company of a Hessian soldier and..." he didn't want to be cruel but... "He could have let his guard down around you because youare a woman." He had the decency to give her his overcoat to drape around her shoulders. It smelled of sweat and smoke and it made her head spin.

"Don't....Don't kill him please." She whimpered.

The soldier shook his head. "Not my call to make."

When his head was clear enough to make sense of things, William found himself conflicted about Keziah's presence. He had hoped she'd escaped their captors, yet if she had, he wouldn't have known whether or not she ultimately was safe. At least now, with her sitting beside him -- apparently unharmed except for some signs of having struggled against their captors -- William knew that she was safe.

The ride continued for what seemed like hours and dozens of miles. In reality, he could have counted the miles traveled on his fingers. It was sometimes hard to imagine the differences between modern and ancient warfare sometimes. In William's time, drones and jet aircraft flew thousands of miles to attack their enemies on distant continents; but in this day and age, sometimes foes could be within sight of one another and still be out of firing range. Hell, in 40 years when the World War One battle lines were drawn in France, the Allied and Germany troops would sometimes be close enough to one to sing together yet not a single shot was fired for hours, days, even weeks sometimes.

They were finally tossed into a cellar jail cell, where William quietly -- mostly non-verbally -- reassured Keziah that she would be okay. He was conflicted about this as well: how much interaction should he show with Keziah? In the eyes of the Patriots now holding them, he was the enemy. Did he really want them thinking that he and Keziah were friends? As far as he personally, did he really want them to continue to think he was a British-employed Hessian? Would they believe him is he claimed otherwise?

In the end, William kept pretty much quiet, except -- when possible, without eavesdroppers -- to reassure Keziah again that all would be well. When they took her away, he just stared, unsure of whether to speak out or not. It was quite a while later that another Militiaman -- the Sergeant who had visited the one armed man back at the cabin -- came in to get William and lead him away to a house that now bore a hand written sign, 2nd Essex County Militia Regiment. Inside, a distinguished looking man in a Colonel's uniform gestured William to a chair, then relieved the guards with the exception of the Sergeant, who stepped back to stand at the door.

"Can I offer you anything, sir," the Colonel asked. "Water...? Food...? The lady of the house makes a meat pie to die for ... figuratively, that is."

William simply stared, unsure and -- quite honestly -- a bit scared.

"My men tell me you are a Hessian deserter, a British mercenary," the Colonel continued when it was obvious that William wasn't going to respond. "They tell me that you have information about the British occupation of Boston." He hesitated for a reaction from William but again got nothing. He continued, obviously threatening William though vaguely and without a harsh tone, "Information that might make keeping you alive something to consider."

William took a moment while the Colonel finished carefully pouring steaming water into a delicate tea cup that obviously belonged to the lady of the house and not an Officer on the move through the countryside. When the man looked back to him, William announced with a firm voice and an obvious lack of German accent, "My parents came from Massachusetts ... but were of Prussian descent. We -- my parents and I -- traveled to Hesse-Kassel, to the family estate on the Fulda River, when I was but 9 years old. My father had been led to believe that he'd inherited some family property, but ... after we'd arrived, we learned that that was, in fact, not true. I was forced to train for the military, becoming what you describe as a mercenary for the Hessian Army."

He hesitated to let the Colonel absorb the information, then continued, "I assure you, Colonel, I did not join the Hessian Army by choice. I did not come to America ... to the Colonies, to aid the British Army in defeating your noble cause by choice. I am, as you say, a deserter. I wish to apply for asylum in the United--"

William hesitated, realizing he was getting ahead of history. He began again, "I would ask that you allow me to either join your fight against the British ... or free me to become a citizen of the great--" He paused again: State wasn't a used word yet, so should he say Commonwealth? Or Colony? No, the people of Massachusetts were fighting to no longer be a colony. He continued in the simplest manner, "I wish to be a citizen of Massachusetts again, as I was when I was young."

The Colonel seemed to be hanging on and considering ever word from William's mouth. And after he'd had a moment to sip at his tea and sit behind the wood plank table that now served as his map desk, he declared to William, "You will be taken to Continental Army headquarters in--" The Colonel hesitated, as if the location of the HQ was a secret. He continued with a firm voice that showed pride for simply being able to speak of the man, "You will be interrogated by none other than the Commander of the Continental Army, General Washington ... and ... if he decides that you are worthy of such benefits, you will get your wish." He sipped at his tea again, his gaze firmly upon William, then said, "And if not ... I'm sure that you will find yourself hung high as a traitor ... and returned to the soil of your native Massachusetts ... as a corpse."

The Colonel gave the Sergeant a knowing glance, and the latter man -- bigger and stronger than an ox -- moved forward to easily lift William from his seat. William quickly and desperately asked, "And what of the woman I was brought in with?"

"What of her?" the Colonel asked casually, again sipping at his drink.

"What's going to happen to her?" William asked, struggling against the Sergeant's attempts to move him toward the door.

"What do you or I care?" the officer asked, again casually as if entirely unconcerned.

"She's my wife!" William spat out suddenly, before he'd even realized he was going to say it. When the Colonel gave him a slight look of surprise, William continued, "We'd been betrothed to one another as children ... and when I returned, I searched for her ... I found her, and we got married."

"You got married...?" the Colonel asked doubtfully. "Between arriving to lay siege to and occupy Boston ... and today ... you located your long lost promised ... and got--"

"We were getting married," William corrected. He was scrambling for anything that might keep him and Keziah together at this point. "When I found her again ... when I found her, we were planning to escape to the south ... to get married ... to join the revolution. Please, Colonel. She's a nurse. I'm a soldier with information about the British. I beg you. Let us stay together, and I promise you ... you will gain benefit from our union."

Her journey was a touch different from his. While she was escorted into the same house, rather than move into one of the larger rooms on the lower floor, she was taken upstairs to a bedroom and for a moment panic seized her astightly as the man's grip on her arm. Fresh tears began to spill again and she cursed herself for being so weak, so afraid. "Let the poor thing go!" A feminine voice with a fading lilt said as the door was swung wide open. On the other side of the door stood a plump older woman who had been getting ready for the day. The soldier hesitated for a heartbeat before pulling Keziah in front of him.

"This woman needs proper clothing." He emphasized his point by pulling is coat from her shoulders. The older woman didn't seem impressed. She merely raised a brow and asked for a knife to cut the ropes from her wrist. Kezoah rubbed ather wrists. They'd been rubbed raw by the ropes and she looked around quickly. The soldier left without a word, presumably he was going to report that the woman was taken care of.

Left alone with the olderwoman, all Keziah could do was shake. She had been taken from her home by the very soldiers that she would have willingly helped. Why hadthey been taken, and more importantly how had they known that William would have been there. In the scramble to the cart, the soldiers had talked about the Hessian. She assumed that meant William because Keziah was of English descent. "You poor dear. Let's have a look at ya." The older woman gingerly held Keziah's hands in her own and examined the scrapes. She frownedand looked back up at the girl. Soldiers didn't bring captive women. Well they could have and she just didn't see. Cooking for an army was quite the chore.

Her hands and knees were cleaned and bandaged and the woman helped her into a proper dress. She even helped fasten her stay and smoothed her hands over the curves of Keziah's sides. "You'd make an excellent wife. Strong hips." She mentioned. "My son is a soldier, went out a few days ago to test the Redcoats. Hasn't come back yet..."

Keziah's eyes widened a little and she looked at the woman from over her shoulder. She's heard those kinds of words before, many times in fact. Mothers were often quite critical in judging their children's intended spouses and well, her former mother-in-law was no different. Many times she had told Keziah that her son was lucky to have gotten a fine young girl like her. Of course she had been none too happy that her son had married a sixteen year old girl when he was barepy in his twentieth year.

"I...I'm sorry ma'am but I'm...married. I was captured with my husband." She quickly explained with a shaky voice. The woman sighed softly, making Keziah wonder if she was going to be called a liar. Keziah had never been good at lying. Instead the woman resumed fastening her dress and helping her tie an apron around her waist.

"What's his name?" She asked curiously.

"William." Keziah gave a faint smile. She'd always likedthe name William.

"Same name as my husband." The older woman smiled. She noticed the lack of a ring or anything to identifyher as a married woman and Keziah shrugged and said that they didn't have enough money. The woman was eiher accepting of her lies or dumber than Keziah felt. What was she thinking? Using William and a false marriage as a means of keeping herself safe wasn't right, well technically she was helping him too...

The olderwoman introduced herself as Elizabeth, making Keziah cry again. Once her tears were dry the soldier came back, knocking politely on the door and informing Keziah that the Colonel had asked to speak to her. The other woman followed down the stairs, claiming to be heading to the kitchen but it was plainto see that she was snooping. Keziah's soldier, the one who still gripped her arm, bowed briefly to the Colonel and presented Keziah. The woman who'd followed was pushed back out the door. She didn't need to be gossiping.

Keziah was genuinely happy to see William and the smile she sent his way was not fake. If he would have been killed then where did that leave her? The Colonel didn't seem impressed that this was who the Hessian deserter claimdd was his wife. He questioned her skills, asking if she was indeed a nurse like her husband had told them she was.

"I am sir." She told him, "I tended to your wounded soldiers along side my brother, I aided in the amputation of a soldier's arm, and I even stitched my husband's wounds that he received in the same skirmish that your soldier lost an arm to." Keziah really hoped that this would makethem see that both of them were okay, that they weren't British spies or anything of the sort.

"Once the fighting began he took it upon himself to go help your men and bring the wounded to safety. Unfortunately the soldier he had been helping died of his wounds and my husband had been shot." Keziah prayed that William would play along. She couldn't risk the only person that could help her get back home.

The tossing around of husband and wife and married very nearly caused William to smirk in humor, even laugh. How he and Keziah thought alike to have made up the same lie: it was incredible, and -- by the reaction of the Colonel -- plausible, because other than scrutinize the two of them as they talked, he said nothing to show his doubt about their claim. And he could have, very easily in fact. Before Keziah had entered the room, the Colonel had grilled William about his recent history extensively: when did you leave the Colonies for Europe, when did you get back, when were you betrothed to the lady with whom you travel, and more. William hadn't been sure whether the Colonel was more interested in William's story about being a recently arrived Hessian deserter or Keziah's true spouse.

"You will be afforded the safety, security, and the hospitality of the Essex County Second Regiment," the Colonel said in a formal and firm tone after a long moment of simply studying the two. He looked first to Keziah. "You my lady will tend to the Regiment's wounded..." And with a more solemn tone added, "...who never seem to diminish in number." He looked to William, cleared his throat, then continued in his commanding voice, "You, sir, will provide my Lieutenants with all you know of the British Forces ... those occupying the City of Boston and those beyond, should you know anything of them as well." He glanced between the pair as he continued, "You will reassure me that you are worthy of the Regiment's time, energy, and trust ... of the Continental Army's time, energy, and trust..."

William understood that to be the Colonel's or else threat without actually using those two words. As he'd listened to the man laying out his own personal assignment, William should have been contemplating how he was going to help the Patriots without possibly altering the future. Would his actions change things to come? What was that word ... paradox? What about the Butterfly Effect? William didn't even know whether he was in the same time line from which he came. Could he have been in a different time line, a different dimension, a different...? Fuck! Suddenly, he wished he'd watched a few less documentaries on history and few more on science and ... quantum whatevers.

Regardless of all that, though, the first question out of William's mouth for the Colonel was, "But Keziah and I--" He hesitated a moment, then corrected, "My wife and I ... we remain together, yes? You aren't splitting us up?"

The Colonel studied the pair another moment, then responded by calling in a soldier from beyond the door, telling him, "Find an empty house for the gentleman and lady. Something comfortable ... one of the now empty Loyalist homes. If there are troops in it now, evict them. They can sleep in a tent."

"Yes, sir," the man said, turning and leaving quickly.

The Colonel looked back to the pair, once again took a moment, then stressed to the Sergeant who had been in the room throughout the interview. "Put Guards on the home. And have them escorted every where they go. If one of them attempts to flee ... shoot the other."

Without hesitation, the Sergeant barked back, "Yes, Colonel."

"My name is George Hardison," the Colonel told William and Keziah, "but you will call me Colonel or Colonel Hardison in the presence of my men. If there is anything you need--" He glanced to the enlisted man, "Sergeant Taylor will see to the need as best he can."

Keziah couldn’t believe their luck that they actually bought the story. Perhaps it was because they’d both thought of the same cover. Claiming to be a married woman would stop most men from making advances. A lot of soldiers were young and always fighting, always marching, so finding a nice girl probably was a little tough. She fiddled with the sleeves of her borrowed dress in a nervous manner. They were a little too long so they had been rolled up; the lady that she had borrowed them from was taller than she was. When the Colonel had given the Sergeant orders to find them a home, she glanced at William with a small smile. Perhaps things would work out well for them after all. However, before they could be escorted to their new ‘home’, the orders were given that if one ran then the other would be killed. Essentially it was a fantastic way to ensure that they’d stay, if not for their duties then for each other. Keziah had to give him credit for that plan. When they were allowed to leave, they were separated, Keziah was led to where the wounded soldiers were being tended and well…she didn’t know where they’d taken William. Hopefully he’d be safe.

She was introduced to the doctor and other nurses who were buzzing around as they patched up the soldiers. Now she understood what the Colonel meant. Just as they stitched one soldier up another was ready to take his place. Keziah worked on one man who was holding a bloody scrap of cloth to his eye. They had been unable to save it. She fixed him up as best as she could, cleaning the wound and applying new dressings before having him lay propped up on pillows. She moved on to the next soldier, and the next, and the next. She frowned when she realized that the doctor had to amputate his leg. The doctor was hesitant and Keziah realized that the poor man was probably no older than she was. He was shaking and his hands and clothes were covered in the blood of other wounded soldiers and he looked at Keziah with a lost expression when she mentioned that he needed to start cutting now.

She walked him through the amputation in the end and even taught him how to sew the arteries closed. The doctor hadn’t told her thank you but she didn’t expect him to. After that she had aided the other nurses with minor wounds and giving water or wiping someone down or changing bandages. It was midafternoon when the Sergeant came back, ordering her to follow. Keziah wiped her bloody hands on her apron, grimacing when they still came back bloody.

She was taken to a house not far from the base that had been set up. For the first time she realized that this had likely been a small town or even a settlement. The house that had been given to them was small, a bit smaller than her own home. She wasn’t going to complain though, a home was a home. Keziah took a moment to look around the house. It was furnished well enough, there were a few things missing but they could live without an extra chair or even a door to the bedroom. Either they had never been there or had been taken to use as firewood by the soldiers. There was one bed, as was expected. The soldiers did think that they were married after all. None likely knew that they had been captured in separate rooms. She wondered briefly if the man she was captured with was okay. She didn’t have to know him to be concerned for him.

Keziah was left to her own devices for a little while. No doubt it was either because the soldiers were talking about what to do if either of them ran, or some other thing unrelated to them. Keziah found that she was exhausted. Twenty four hours ago she'd been sitting alone in her home with just her roaring fireplace for company and now she was here, in the Continental Army's camp, or at least once of them, with a man she was pretending was her husband but in reality she had no clue who he was beyond the name he'd given to her.

"What are you talking about? There's no road there. It's just swamp!"

William clenched his teeth tightly together, rising up away from the map spread out over the table to contemplate the Lieutenant's correction. They had been at this for almost three hours, and the frustrations had only been increasing as time passed. The 21st century Boston in which William had been raised was nothing like the Boston of 1775; and William's extensive historical research over the years -- for his personal interest and for the Doctorate on which he'd once been working but then abandoned -- was proving not to have been as accurate as he'd hoped. Either that or he'd just been a horrible student and wasn't remembering what he needed to remember for shit!

"Here," he said, pointing to a spot on the map that had been hand drawn on the inside of a Militiaman's deer hide jacket, to hide it from the British should he be stopped for questioning. "About half a mile north of the narrowest--"

"Swamp," the Lieutenant cut in again. Tapping his own finger on the map, he described what he knew to be in that location before looking to the Colonel, who had only just moments entered the room to check the progress of their Hessian defector. Standing more rigidly, the young officer said in a formal tone, "Colonel, it is my belief that this man is a fraud. I don't believe that--"

But the Lieutenant went quiet at the Colonel's gentle stop gesture. The camp's Commander took a moment to study William -- who was appearing a bit nervous at his repeated mistakes and subsequent fear of what would happen to him -- then looked to his subordinate and asked, "Has he told you anything that we know to be accurate, Lieutenant ... something he couldn't have known unless he was who he claims to be?"

The Lieutenant hesitated, then answered, "Yes, sir."

The two Patriot officers discussed William's three or four revelations, after which the Lieutenant -- now eager to support his earlier implication that William was a waste of skin -- said with a firm belief, "But none of this is of strategic value to us, Colonel. We knew all of this already. And he ... this Hessian traitor ... he could have learned this by--"

Again the Lieutenant went silent at his superior's gesture. William could feel his heart pounding inside his chest, and -- stupidly, probably -- he was wondering whether the muskets being held by the dozens of Militiamen scattered around the camp outside the HQ were accurate enough to shoot him down as he fled in a zigzag pattern for the nearest swamp. He wouldn't flee, of course: every time he thought of escape, he remembered the threat the Colonel had made about shooting Keziah if William did try to split this madness.

"Give me one thing of value, sir," the Colonel said firmly to William. "One thing of actionable value ... to prove to me that you are more than my Lieutenant here believes you to be."

William considered the Colonel for a moment, then looked to the map. One thing ... just one thing that will prove to them that I am who I say I am. William chuckled involuntarily, then -- seeing the officers' reaction to him laughing -- forced himself quiet. Thee humor that had suddenly taken control of him was a result of William's brain quizzing him, Who exactly the fuck ARE you? He was a 21st Revolutionary War reenactor ... emphasis on the last two syllables of that last word ... act-or. This wasn't his war. Hell, this wasn't his century! So, to answer the Colonel's question William had to answer his own: Who are you?

As he stared at the map, the answer came to William: I'm a history student who knows enough about this time period that I should be able to find at least one thing of value, of important, of action ... to save my skin... His skin crawled with goose flesh as that thought continued, ...and Keziah's skin, too. William had asked about his wife several times over the passing hours, and each time he'd been told that she was fine, that she was working, and that he needed to concentrate on his own work.

"There!" William said suddenly, pressing his finger to a little slash of a line on the map where a wandering line indicated a stream. When one of the Sergeants -- who had not only been fighting in the Bottleneck but who had grown up there as well -- pointed out that it was just a bridge over Carlson Creek and unimportant, William quickly said, "No! It is important."

"It goes no where," the Sergeant countered. "The road dead ends at the Tyler farm--"

"Which is the current location of several wagons filled with muskets, shot, powder..." William smiled broadly as he looked to the Colonel before adding, "And two eight inch Howitzers."

The Sergeant laughed loudly, decrying William's claim as ludicrous. "Why would the British take that kind of weaponry up a road to a farm of no military consequence."

"They didn't," William said, looking back to the Sergeant. He traced his finger on the map -- from northeast to southwest through the what was in this time a combination of river, creeks, swamps, and bay but what would in his time be the Fort Point Channel -- and countered, "They didn't move this stuff north to the farm by land ... they brought in in from the south by sea."

William had been searching for something, anything, that might get him a leg up with the Colonel. Then he'd remembered "The Covington Letters". A British Captain named Harmon Covington had led a unit that arrived undetected by sea at the Tyler Farm, which had belonged to a Loyalist family prior to the Siege of Boston. The plan had been to attack the Second Regiment's position from its vulnerable eastern flank, from across the Carlson Creek Bridge. But there had been an accident -- still unexplained even in the 21st century -- that had led to a fire, which in turn had led to the explosion of the unit's gunpowder supply. With the loss of almost all of their powder, Covington had his cannons destroyed -- to prevent their use by the Patriots -- and withdrew his force, knowing that any attack against a fortified Massachusetts army would result in his men's slaughter. The Captain was chastised for his failure, demoted, and sent back to England in disgrace, but in "The Covington Letters" -- which were only discovered in the late 1990s -- Harmon declared that he felt no regret for having saved the lives of his men.

"If you send a small detachment of men up the road to attack and destroy the force's gunpowder reserves," William instructed after explaining all about Covington's unit. He knew he wasn't risking a change in history because the destruction of the gunpowder had actually happened. He continued, "Then you can prevent the attack on your east ... and save many Patriot lives."

William stepped back a bit to let the officers mull over the concept. They spent the next several minutes planning strategy while the Sergeant continued to question whether or not William could be trusted. Finally, the Colonel declared, "Lieutenant, you will led twenty men to the Tyler Farm to destroy the Redcoats ability to attack. Sergeant you will lead a scouting party first, to check the bridge ... ensure the unit can proceed without detection."

The Sergeant didn't look to pleased about that order, but after a moment he smirked broadly and suggested, "Sir! I think the Hessian should accompany the scouting party."

"What?" William said in surprise almost before he realized his mouth was even opening. "Me...? Why me?"

"Because if this is a trap," the Sergeant snapped back before any of the officers could make a similar inquiry, "then you will get killed as well ... or if you're captured..." His smirk widened as he continued, "...in a Massachusetts Second Regiment uniform, you'll be jailed and likely executed. Either way, you die with me. And ... if the British don't kill you..."

The Sergeant looked to the Colonel with a suggestive expression on his face. The Regiment Commander understood the look. He glanced at William, then back to the Sergeant. "Yes, you may take the Hessian with you. And yes ... if it is a trap, you may execute him."

William felt his face go cold as the blood rushed from it. He made a half-assed attempt at talking his way out of going -- mentioning his wife and how she'd need him and all that -- but it was to no avail...

......

"How do I look?" William asked Keziah as he entered his and Keziah's little honeymoon cottage. The expression on his face was about as fresh as the Massachusetts Militia uniform he was wearing: it was torn in a couple of places, had a darker spot of fabric around the mended bullet hole in the shoulder, and was obviously two sizes too large for him. As she studied him, William explained, "I'm being sent out on a mission with the troops ... to a farm north of here, where..."

He didn't finish explaining, his stomach turning over as the fear and anxiety rushed through him. He just knew he was going to get killed out there tomorrow. He was going to get killed, and he'd never get back to his Boston. Or ... if he was never to get back to his Boston and he was here permanently, then the result was that he'd never get back to Keziah's Boston ... and to Keziah ... to his wife...

And suddenly, down below the loose fitting belt of his real Revolutionary War uniform, William felt a stirring that was entirely inappropriate considering all the drama happening around them.

She had been surprisedto see him standing in the main room in a Patriots uniform. Had she expected that he'd be staying here? No, he was an able bodied man and that meant he could fight, that he would be able to be one more playing piece in this game. She was coming to realize that her life would be nothing but an endless supply of wounded soldiers, and his was fighting for something that ought to have been settled long ago.
She twisted her hands together nervously. She knew that this could be the last time that she would see him. He'd made a promise to her brother to keep her safe and he couldn't keep that if he was dead. Keziah wanted to go home, back to Boston...hell even back home to her father. She needed help getting there and William was the only help she had.

Keziah took a few cautious steps closer and reached out to adjust his uniform. She looked away when she caught the look in his eye. She had been married, really married, and knew what that look meant. "William....I can't. Not yet. I don't....I don't know you and this isn't appropriate." Her voice had dropped into a whisper and if any soldiers were to be watching through the few windowd they had, then it would look more like she was giving her goodbyes rather than turning him down. "But...please come back to me. I...I want to go home and you promised that I'd be safe." Her voice broke and she pulled away from him to wipe her tears. "Just come back, okay? Promise me that you'll come back to me..."

The woman hugged her arms around herself and finally broke down. Her whole life had been turned upside down in a matter of hours and she was so conflicted. She was angry at William, for bringing this mess with him but at the same time she was so frigtened and he was the only thing that gave her a shred of hope. After Keziah calmed down she said that she was going to bed, and that he was welcome to sleep beside her. "Do not make me regret it." She warned.

Keziah didn't think he'd force himself upon her and she had made it clear that she wasn't going to just spread her legs for him. Keziah...she didn't know what she felt towards him. Everything was just so jumbled up in her head and her heart right now. She grew frustrated with her stay and nesrly threw it across the room when she finally got it off of her. Bloody contraption. The nightgown that she had found in ine of the dressers earlier was just about the right size and she smoothed out the white cloth before falling into the bed. She was asleep a little while later.

_____

When the morning came, Keziah felt nothing. It was as if her heart didn't care anymore and her tears were dried up. She knew that by midmorning she'd have fresh ones to shed. The woman didn't know if William had slept beside her or if he had even slept at all. Her own sleep had been full of tossing and turning, and once she'd even woken up from a nightmare where Samuel, Elizabeth and their little baby, a little girl in her dreams, had been executed one by one. William had been in her dream too, as a corpse being returned to her covered with a bloodied cloth. That scared her just as much as seeing her family being executed.

She dressed for the day, debating on if she should break tradition and go without her stay. She hated wearing them. In the end she stuck to tradition and once she was fully dressed and her braided hair was tucked beneath a frilled cap, she wandered into the main room.

From behind a downed tree, William and the Sergeant studied the Tyler Farm. In the midst of about an acre of cleared land stood a log cabin flanked by a pair of barns. Redcoat sentries patrolled the perimeter while a small group of their compatriots worked to assemble the Howitzers that history had correctly recorded would be here.

"What are you smiling about?" the Sergeant growled quietly. When William looked to him, the squad leader asked, "If you are thinking about alerting the Redcoats in the hopes of--"

"No, Sergeant, I have no intention of alerting the British," William said, looking back to the farmstead. "I'm just ... excited."

"About...?"

"The Covington Letters," William answered. When the confused looking Sergeant asked what that meant, William only told him, "Some doubted their authenticity ... said they were fraudulent ... an attempt by the Captain to excuse his failure. But I never did."

William turned and slid down to sit on the soft ground. Without saying anymore about the Letters and instead claiming that the knowledge came from his now ended employment with the British, William filled in the Sergeant on all he could remember from Covington's writings. Scouts sent out to encircle and survey the farmstead returned to report that William's information was spot on.

The Sergeant left sentries to watch the farmstead, then pulled the rest of the unit back down the road. While they waited for the Lieutenant and the Assault Squad, William thought about the events of the previous evening, which had been one of the strangest in his life. Keziah had told him she couldn't be with him in the way that his body language had apparently been speaking loud and clear. Then, she'd surprised him by saying that he could sleep next to her in the bed. He'd initially said he didn't think that was a good idea, but after he'd caught one of the Guards outside with his face to the window glass checking on the married couple, William had relented and made his way to the bedroom.

Only the foot of the bed was within view of the main room's windows, and the bedroom's windows were well draped; so William had only to shed his coat and boots before slipping under the top blanket. There was still a blanket between he and Keziah, reminding him of that scene from Mel Gibson's movie The Patriot in which his adult son was bound up in a cloth cocoon before laying with his fiancée for a night of sexless bed time. Still, William couldn't help but suffer some excitement down below the belt of his Patriot uniform.

He'd laid there just staring at the underside of the split log roof, contemplating the future ... but ... not for long. William had been far more exhausted than he thought, and in no time at all he'd fallen asleep. He awoke with a start at the increasing illumination of a nearby gas lamp, looking up to find the Sergeant smiling down at him. The man's humor became obvious when William realized that an arm was draped over his chest.

"It'll be dawn in two hours," the Militiaman whispered. "Time to go."

William pulled his head back a bit to focus on Keziah's face. She looked so peaceful, which was ironic because prior to rolling over and finding peace against him, she'd been having a fitful sleep. William reached a hand up toward Keziah's face, intending to caress it lovingly. But he stopped, fearing that he would wake and -- possibly -- embarrass her. Instead, William slipped Keziah's arm from him and slid out to prepare for the day ahead.

...........

It was close to sundown when the Lieutenant arrived with his squad, but instead of twenty Militiamen he'd brought thirty-eight men. After conferring with the Sergeant and the Sentries -- recalled to make their report -- the attack was initiated. It was a sneak attack, a guerilla action, unlike the battles of which most 21st century Americans knew, where the opposing forces faced one another across an field and fired as one before charging with bayonets fixed. The Militiamen -- surrounding the farmstead in small squads -- fired from cover in the forest, dropped their discharged muskets, picked up and fired their second weapons, then charged with their third rifles, upon which bayonets were fixed. For the most part, the fight was over in less than 90 seconds, and when the shooting, stabbing, and clubbing was over, the Massachusetts Second Regiment was in control of the Tyler Farm, 14 Redcoat prisoners, and the whole of the British Force's arms and armament.

William had watched the horrific battle from behind the tree, under guard per the still suspicious Sergeant's order. He'd been shot, not that he remembered it; and he'd seen other men who'd been shot as well. But this was the first time he'd actually watched an active battle and witnessed the damage that could be done by a musket, some of which fired the same .75 caliber ball of shot his ancestor's rifle had. Once the fight was over, his guards escorted William up into the farmstead, and he found himself surrounded by dead and dying soldiers, mostly British but including some Patriots as well. He was almost to the log cabin, where the Lieutenant was being reported to by his Squad Leaders, when the carnage finally got to William and he doubled over to puke.

It was embarrassing -- he was, after all, supposed to be a veteran Hessian mercenary -- but then that wasn't William's main concern right now. Once he'd emptied his stomach and rinsed his mouth from a nearby trough, he made his way -- still under guard -- past the now fully assembled Howitzers to the Lieutenant to ask, "Have you found the powder?"

"We did, sir," the officer said, returning to talking to his subordinates about his own immediate concerns. When he realized William was seeking his attention, he said, "Thank you for your information ... and your service. I will make a recommendation to the Colonel that you be considered a trustworthy asset to the Cause."

"How will you destroy the Howitzers, Lieutenant?" William asked. When the assault's Commander asked why they should destroy the cannons, William said, "That's why we came here. To destroy the gun powder and the cannons. To prevent an attack on the Second."

"We've done that, sir ... we've prevented the British attack," the Lieutenant agreed, giving orders to a couple of men before turning back to William and informing him, "And now we have two eight inch Howitzers ... with which we will devastate the British defenses at the Boston Bottleneck ... enabling us to invade the City from the south ... and end this war."

"But..." William began, stopping when he realized he had no idea what to say to the Lieutenant's plan. What was he going to say: But that's not how it happened. You don't take Boston for another year. You can't do this. When the Lieutenant asked William But what? all William could say was, "Nothing. I ... I just thought we were going to destroy this stuff and get back to..."

He got about that far and began to realize that he sounded ridiculous. Why would the Patriots intentionally destroy two cannons that were more powerful than anything they had back at the camp. William had glanced around the Second Regiment while he was there, and he'd realized that they possessed no heavy weapons at all. Muskets and a few small cannons that fired grape shot ... essentially a shotgun on steroids. They could defend themselves against an infantry attack with the weapons they had, but they couldn't get through fortified and heavily manned wall that guarded the Bottleneck without big guns. And now, thanks to William, they had them.

..........

The Patriot victors had remained at the Tyler farm over night, so it was nearly noon before William had safely returned to the house in which he and his wife were living. He stripped off the Patriot uniform -- now bloodied from helping the Tyler Farm's wounded -- and was standing naked in a half-barrel filled of warm water from the fire place washing himself off with a soaked cloth when he realized he'd heard sound and turned to find Keziah standing in the doorway.

Her morning had been quiet. She had cleaned up the small home, prepared a simple breakfast and washed a few pairs of old clothes she'd found on the floor, pushed into the corners of the room. Keziah didn't reach the tent that housed the wounded soldiers until almost noon. The nurses had buzzed about and so did the doctor, trying everything they could to save one of the men. He was pale and gaunt, suffering from disease. When they stopped and finally let him pass on, Keziah watched as the soldiers prepared to burn his body. They couldn't afford a proper burial for a sick man. This was how her day had progressed. One soldier after another with some ailment or sickness. Once she even had a soldier throw up on her shoes. He had apologized in a thick Irish accent and she had simply said that it was okay before giving him a cup of water before bending down to clean her shoes.
 
"You're the woman they brought with that man, ain't ya?" The Irish soldier said. He remembered seeing the cart roll in when he was on patrol. Keziah nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat.
 
"I am. That was my husband." She said. While she had cleaned their house -- wait it wasn't their house…so why…She pushed those thoughts back. Perhaps it was because he reminded her so much of her late husband. Of course they looked nothing alike. Her husband had light features and tanned skin from many days of hunting and farming. She had once hoped to bear a little boy with the same blue eyes as his father. It never happened of course, he'd died before they could really get a chance to talk about children.

The man just fell silent and nodded. "Me wife is back home with the kids." They had talked for a little while as she tended to the unconscious soldier next to him. She lied and made up some random story about William, hoping that he wouldn't mind too much and that she could remember to tell him about it just in case someone else asked about it. She didn't know how well they'd take to them both lying. The rest of her day had passed uneventfully save for the plump older woman coming to ask about her husband.
Keziah had informed her that she'd woken up alone this morning, solely because he'd gone with the other soldiers. The plump woman reminded her so much of her mother. This Elizabeth was quite outspoken, slapping the backs of soldier's hands when they tried to sneak an extra roll from her basket. It was refreshing really.

When she was able to go back home, Keziah wondered if the other soldiers were back yet. She was a tad bit worried about William. She had tried to tell herself that he was a stranger, that she didn't have to worry so much about him but the promise her brother had forced him into kept coming back. All day she had been a bundle of worry and when she was finally able to go home and relax, Keziah had stopped to look at the small garden just outside of the cottage. Of course there was a soldier standing no less than ten feet away from her.

When she headed back inside, she ignored the look the soldier was giving her. It was an odd smile, as if he knew something that she didn't and that made her worry even more…Until she opened the door and spotted William. She stood wide eyed and a blush soon came across her cheeks, coloring the tips of her ears and even spreading a bit down her neck. "Oh…Um…" Keziah might have been married, might have been okay with seeing a naked man who needed medical care but this was something else entirely. She shifted nervously and looked away, or trying to anyways. The nurse side of her, even though she was a midwife, was looking for any injuries that needed to be treated (and a bit of staring wouldn't hurt, would it?) At any rate, she turned her attention to the open door where the soldier was laughing.

"Come on lass, he's your husband! Actin' like you've never seen 'im before!" He soldier had a barking laugh, one that she would have found quite funny in any other situation.

Keziah stood a little taller and glared, although the blush still on her cheeks ruined the effect. "Sir, will you kindly stop looking at my husband? I understand that you like the view but still, give the man some privacy." She said. Keziah closed the door after that and leaned her forehead on the door.
"I'm glad your back but can you at least put some trousers on? Please?" She asked, shifting again.

William had a similar reaction of modesty when he realized Keziah was in the doorway, turning his back to her to hide at least his dangling manhood. Later, when he was able to privately laugh about the incident, he would find himself happy that the warm water with which he'd been washing and the rather erotic nature of standing naked in a tub in the middle of someone else's home had left him dangling impressively, rather than shrunk as often happened when exposing yourself in chilled air or out of a cold stream. But, this moment was not the moment of such thoughts: at this moment, William was simply embarrassed.

"I'm glad your back but can you at least put some trousers on? Please?"

William stepped out of the tub and snatched up a spare over shirt he'd dug out of a drawer, using it quickly to rub away at least some of the water before he explained, "I'm so sorry. They-- The Guards said you would be in the hospital all night."

As he slipped the now somewhat wet shirt on and began donning a fresh pair of farmer trousers, William wondered whether or not he'd been set up by the Militiamen guarding him. But, they all seemed to believe that he and Keziah were, in fact, wedded. So, no, the laughter of the Guard at the door had to simply be the result of seeing the wifey so visibly embarrassed. Once William had his pants tied around his waist with the rope that had already been on the pants, he told Keziah so, then -- with his own blush going and feeling suddenly comical -- asked, "So, how was your day, honey?"

..........

The woman who had been assisting Keziah with settling in came by a bit later with a basket full of food, some of it prepared, some of it needing to be so. She asked if they needed anything more from her, to which Keziah asked for what she wanted and for which William asked, "Do you have any news you can share...? You know, about what's happening ... between the British and the Americans."

The woman donned a rather odd expression at William's use of the word Americans, and he had to remind himself that the people of the Colonies hadn't taken to calling themselves that quite yet. Oh, there had been incidents of people referring to themselves as Americans dating clear back to the early 16th century, but most of those had been ship's captains or merchants referring to the New World routes in which they participated, not to a sense of nationality as it would soon become. No, it was only after the end of the Revolutionary War that the word became popular, and even then 1 out of 3 Colonists still claimed loyalty to England and -- despite the British defeat -- considered themselves British citizens. It wouldn't be until after the passing of the U.S. Constitution in 1789 or even after the second American victory in the War of 1812 that the word William had so casually tossed out became the standard identifier for those living in this region of the still-yet-to-be-fully-settled continent.

"What about the guns we brought back?" William asked after the woman seemed not to understand that about which he was inquiring. "Are they doing anything with the Howitzers ... the cannons?"

"Oh, I do not know such things," she said, again asking Keziah if there was anything more she could do. When William pressed her again, the woman got a bit defensive. "Please, sir, do not ask such things of me. 'Tis not my place to know such ... nor my place to talk about such."

Once she was done with Keziah, the woman shot William a suspicious glance, then left. He looked to the woman who was role playing his wife and, after searching for how to explain, told her, "We captured two heavy guns yesterday ... brought them back this morning from the Tyler Farm ... eight inch Howitzers." He turned away, beginning to pace about slowly as he continued, "The Patriots weren't meant to have these guns. They were meant to have been destroyed. Covington had them destroyed after he lost his powder, so that if they were found by the Americans -- by the Second Regiment -- they couldn't be used. Now, Hardison has them, and with them he can crush the British defenses at the Bottleneck. And if he does that, they'll flood up into Boston and change the course of the war ... change history."

After a moment of silent pacing, William glanced Keziah's direction and found her staring at him with an expression that either meant she simply didn't understand or she thought he was crazy. Either may have been true. Hell, both may be true: occasionally, William had tried to tell himself that this was all but a dream and that any moment he would wake up and it would all be over. He's be back in 21st century Boston, laying flat on his back at the reenactment, disoriented but alive and well as the terrorists rampaging through the park were dealt with by someone other than he and his Hessian musket.

With the rather embarrassing moment behind them, Keziah had taken to patching clothes and even washing his uniform. It gave her something to do to keep boredom and other thoughts away. Mostly though, she mentally went over everything again and again, trying to make sense of how her life had gone from quietly living in Boston to this...being in a military camp with a fake husband and no clue if she'd ever get home. It took a lot out of her to even think of the possibility that she'd never see her brother or father again. She set the clothes out to dry before heading inside.

She smiled at her fellow nurse when she brought a basket of food. Keziah was thankful that she had come. She had been feeling out of sorts when a soldier had died earlier. It was no rarity but the soldier had been yelling for his mother, crying that he was scared. He'd been delirious and had a fever. Second to die from disease. She hoped that it wouldn't spread. Keziah bid the woman goodbye and busied herself with looking through the basket when William spoke up.

What was her talking about? History being changed...? Well it would, technically, they'd be free, their own country like the men who had planned this revolution said. Keziah didn't dabble in politics, finding that often it was more of a man's world than the medical field. She frowned when she thought of her brother and his wife. They were still in Boston. They would be in the middle of the war, a war they had no place in. Her blood ran cold. "We have to....My brother and sister are in Boston. They're just ordinary people!" Keziah was very aware that womem didn't raise their voices. The door was opened by one of the soldiers out of curiosity and he quickly shut it when Keziah yelled again.

Outside the two soldiers on guard made jokes about the woman being a spitfire.

Keziah calmed down a little while later. She had yelled at William and even cursed thay she'd even left the safety of that little farm near Lexington. She sat in one of the chairs with her head in her hands and a pit in her stomach. She apologized for the outburst. Keziah looked up at him with a hard look in her eye. "Tell me who you are. Really are. You know something..." Her voice had dropped into a whisper so the soldiers wouldn't hear her asking her husband who he was.

William considered Keziah's request, and he wanted so badly to tell her the truth of his situation. It would be such a relief to tell someone ... anyone. For days now, his mind had been skipping between believing that this was real and believing that it was all a fantasy. Perhaps talking about it out loud would finally push it entirely one way or the other. But ... would Keziah believe him? How could she? William didn't believe it himself, and he was from an era when stories of time travel not only filled the scripts of books, television, and movies but was actually being researched -- directly and indirectly -- by both governments and private industries across the globe.

"I told you who I am," he told her in the most sincere tone he could, adding, "Sort of."

William paced a few more steps before the fire place, during which his mind asked Do they say 'Sort of' in this time? He glanced to Keziah and knew that what he'd said wasn't going to be enough. He moved a stool over before her and sat upon it, just two feet between the two of them. He was about to tell her a story about being a Continental Army spy under the direct authority of General Washington himself, when he hesitated instead, then said bluntly, "I'm from the future."

He watched for her reaction, then leaned in a little closer. He began to speak, then chuckled nervously. After drawing and exhaling a deep breath, he spilled out every little detail of how he'd ended up here and how he'd known about the Tyler Farm: the reenactment, the terrorist attack, the Hessian rifle, the Covington Letters. "My name is William, as I told you. William Kutcher. I'm 27 years old ... but--" He did the math quickly, then continued, "But I wasn't born in 1748. I was born in 1990. Keziah ... I won't be born ... for another, what ... 215 years."

Keziah had gone as white as a sheet as he said that he was from the future. That wasn't…that wasn't possible. She didn't know what the future would be like but she knew it was possible. God just didn't work like that and there was no other explanation. She just stared for a long time before looking at the crackling fire. The longer she thought about it, the more it became clear that she had been right about the fact that something was off about William. She just didn't expect it to be 215 years off.

"But you're here now." She said weakly. Perhaps she was insane and this was all some sort of weird dream that her mind had cooked up. Perhaps she'd drank a little too much. But everything felt so real, she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to, and he certainly felt real when she had been stitching him up. "You can't be from then…and be here now." Keziah was just trying to make sense of all of this and frankly she was beginning to panic.
She had panicked like this when her husband Charlie had died. It felt hard to breathe and she just wanted to rush outside but the soldiers out there would have made her panic even more.

Once the panic passed and she took a few deep breaths, Keziah looked at him warily. "Tell me then. What is it like?" She wanted to know. If it was really true and he wasn't crazy or she wasn't crazy then surely he could tell her something, anything.

William could see the confusion in Keziah's face slowly replaced with panic. Did she think he was nuts? Or maybe a ... what did they call a male witch, a warlock or a wizard or...? Maybe she believed him and simply couldn't process the concept. Hell, William was from the future, and if someone had told him then that they were from his future, he wouldn't have believed it ... and he lived in the era of great science.

He scooted forward on the stool and took Keziah's hands into his. He wanted to say something reassuring, but what? Soon, though, her panic began to subside, and Keziah finally spoke, "Tell me then. What is it like?"

William smiled a bit, asking, "What ... the future?"

He released her hands and sat up taller, chuckling. "Oh ... where do I start?"

He contemplated for a moment, then -- instead of beginning his answer -- told her as he stood, "Wait a moment, Keziah. We're going to need something before we begin this."

He went to and through the cabin's front door and chatted with the Guards. It was obvious that he was negotiating, and after he'd turned over most of a berry pie and a loaf of sweet nut bread, he returned to home's main room, gesturing Keziah to join him. He moved two chairs closer to the fire, which he stoked, then pulled out the gain from his trade, a metal flask of whiskey. He sucked from it, wincing at the sharpness, then offered it out. He didn't know whether good women of this era imbibed, so if she waved him off he wouldn't be offended.

"The future ... where to start..." William began, smiling softly as he studied Keziah, watching for her reactions. "Well, let's start with the war. We win ... the Patriots ... in 1981." He thought he saw something in Keziah's reaction to hearing that the war would go on for more than another six years. "General Cornwallis will surrender to General Washington after a siege at Yorktown ... in Virginia. We -- the United States -- will fight the British again in another war, the War of 1812 ... but, believe it or not, England and America are close allies now."

William went on to explain about how the Colonies became the United States of America, and about how the US spread west across the continent to eventually include 50 states, "Including Alaska ... have you heard of Alaska...? Oh, and Hawaii, which are actually called the Sandwich Islands. Wait, no ... not yet. But, soon. Captain Cook won't be there until ... oh, never mind, anyway..."

He moved onto explaining that the railroads would span the continent, then realized he had to explain what a railroad was seeing how the first American railroads were still 30 or 40 years away. "Oh, and cars. Thousands ... millions of cars rushing this way and that on freeways ... concrete roads ... like the smoothest cobblestone you could imagine, at twice the speed of the fastest horse you've ever seen."

William tried to avoid mention of the seemingly endless number of wars that would follow the current one, but if Keziah asked a question about future conflicts, he told himself he would answered her. One thing he was dead set about bringing up was The Bomb. Keziah had already seen the effects of rifle shot and cannon concussion on men: the last thing about which she needed to know -- about which she needed in her nightmares -- was a single bomb that could kill millions in a single flash of light.

When the topic came around to William's personal history, the man from the 21st century sat up tall in his chair and contemplated what he wanted to tell her about his life. "Well, like I said, I was born in 1990. I'm 27 years old. I was born in Portland. That's Portland, Oregon, not Portland, Maine. It's clear on the other side of the country ... the other side of the US, on the Pacific Coast, almost anyway. I was an only child. My father died in a car crash -- I told you about cars -- when I was 12. My mom, she, um ... well, she ... she never recovered from losing my dad. She, um..."

He glanced at the flask in his hands, which -- at about 20 ounces in size -- was by now nearly empty. He capped and tossed it aside, then decided to skip the explanation about his mother's alcoholism, instead only saying, "She got sick and died when I was 18, just a couple of months after I went off to college."

Even though he'd told Keziah the amazing story of airplanes, jets, and space ships, he decided not to mention drones, fearing that she would ask him about their use. He didn't want to explain that he'd once worked as a contractor flying military drones, dropping bombs from great heights to destroy ISIS positions ... and, on two occasions, vehicles filled with innocent Syrian women and children. William had tried for years to forget those incidents, and the last things Keziah needed was to know about that kind of warfare.

"After college, I did this and that for a living," he continued, already missing the flask. "I had always been interested in my family's Hessian heritage, so I went back to school to get a Ph.D.--" He hesitated, not remembering whether the 18th century had had such upper level degrees, then decided he didn't care to explain it. "I got interested in Revolutionary War reenactments, and ... that's how I ended up here."

William hadn't actually told Keziah that he'd killed a man with his ancestor's rifle. He'd only said he'd fired at the man. He continued, describing some of his reenactment memories before switching subjects. "I never married. I never found a good woman who would put up with my ... oh, lets call them idiosyncrasies. I wouldn't put a good woman through that kind of crap. A good woman ... like yourself, Keziah."

She listened to him, taking a few sips from the flask herself. It was probably a good thing that they had the flask in the first place. His story was hard to swallow. It was interesting, learning about all of these things that were to come. She tried picturing the things he talked about and she was sure whatever her imagination cooked up wasn't going to compare to the real thing. When he spoke of wars, especially the one that was going on now, she frowned. Why did war always have to happen? This war wasn't pointless, they'd be a free country. She was particularly interested in his personal history. She had invited this kan into her home, so she felt entitled to know something about him. The alcohol loosened his lips and she watched him carefully.

When he spoke of marriage and how he'd never settled down she couldn't help the bitter look that she got. "My husband told me the same thing. That I was a good woman and he didn't think himself as worthy." Keziah started telling him about Charles. How they had met (ironically they'd met as children. He had been Peter's cousin, an orphan from an early age who had gone to live with his aunt and uncle on a farm near Lexington.) She told him about the wedding and how blows had nearly been thrown because the men brought out alcohol. Keziah explained how her mother-in-law had been displeased that her son had married so young, and that his bride had been five years younger. Even now it was a bit uncommon to find a young bride. Most tried to put off marriage for aslong as they could.

"He died a few months into our marriage." She'd been keeping her voice low so their guards wouldn't hear. "He got sick with a fever. I...I tried everything I could have to save him and I failed. How can you call me a good woman when I let my husband die?" She asked him, her whisper straining with the effort to not cry. Keziah feared that she'd spoken too much and she moved away, into the bedroom. When she looked outside through the lone window in the bedroom it was nighttime. Keziah sifhed and pulled off her frilled cap before tossing it to the side and bringing her braid over her shoulder so she could untie the ribbon that held it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, blinking away her tears. When none fell she shuffled around the room and changed into her night clothes. It was a bit awkward that the soldiers could peer into the room if they chose to look through the windows.

After she was changed, Keziah went back out to sit by he fireplace. She was a bit bothered by the fact that this man was still a stranger, even though she knew everything about him, or about as close to everything as she could get. She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that he wasn't even from now. Keziah pulled her long, loose hair over her shoulder and played with the ends. "Will I ever get home?" She asked him, dropping her hands from her hair and twisting them together in her lap.

(FYI: I am changing the color of quoted dialogue from green to tan. It appears easier to read. If it isn't please tell me and I'll switch back.)

Keziah explained about the death of her husband, solemnly adding, "How can you call me a good woman when I let my husband die?"

Taking a chance on it being too familiar, William scooted closer until he was almost falling from the edge of his chair and took Keziah's hands in his again. "You didn't kill your husband. You didn't kill Charles. His fever ... it wasn't your fault." He wanted to remind her about the germs about which he'd spoke when they tended the now one armed Militiaman, but it wasn't the right time. She went to her room and began changing into her night clothes, and while he shouldn't have, William took a few peeks her direction in an attempt to get a view of her in fewer layers. Although he got a glimpse of her in her undergarments, it wasn't exactly an erotic moment compared to the ladies undergarments of the 21st century.

When Keziah returned, looking more comfortable and in a more familiar state than that in which a strange male should have seen her, she asked, "Will I ever get home?"

"Yes ... yes!" William reassured her, again taking her hands into his. He tilted his head into her line of sight, getting her to look into his eyes while he smiled and stressed, "I promised your brother that I would protect you. No harm will come to you, Keziah, so long as I am with you. I promise."

There was a knock at the door, which cracked open a bit.

"Excuse me, sir ... ma'am," the familiar voice of the Sergeant spoke from out of sight. His tone was far more polite than William had heard it to date as he stuck his head inside and continued, "The Colonel would like to speak to the gentleman, please."

William reassured Keziah that everything was fine, that he'd be right back. And less than an hour, he was ... but with an expression on his face that left little doubt as to how his meeting with the officer had gone. After pacing about for a moment, searching for and finding and finishing off the last of the flask's contents, then dropping into his chair near the fire again, William looked to Keziah with concern.

"They've moved the Howitzer's to the front lines ... and the Squad leaders are ... have been briefed," he told her in a low volume. "Scouts were sent around the Bottleneck even before we left for the Tyler Farm ... to quietly rally rebels inside the city ... to prepare for a dawn attack on the Bottleneck."

He let his head fall back onto the chair, staring again at the plank ceiling as he thought back to his history. When he looked to Keziah again, he told her, "Most of the British forces were--"

He paused, remembering that he was wasn't speaking of the long passed year of 1775 but was actually in that year. He continued, "They are in the north of the city ... to protect against an attack by sea ... from across the channels. There're only enough Redcoats at the South Wall to stop raids ... like the one I was injured in ... the one that led to us meeting."

William leaned forward to finish, then hesitated. He stood and went to a window, peeking out before moving to yet another and looking out it as well. He returned to Keziah, sitting and leaning in very close. "My loyalties are still being questioned ... so they've put extra Guards on the house. Keziah ... I can't let those guns be used against the South Wall. It may not sound like much, just two guns. But the wall wasn't built to withstand cannon fire. It will fall, the Militia will enter Boston." He contemplated a moment before concluding, "I don't know what will happen, whether the Militia will prevail or whether the British will push the Patriots back. But ... history could be changed, and--"

He stopped short, literally biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from saying what he'd been about to reveal to her: if history was changed here, if the Patriots took Boston or if the Redcoats succeeded in not just pushing the rebels back but in also taking the territory to the south, that could have a significant effect on the yet-to-be-made British plans to send troops to New York next year after the Siege of Boston really ended. And William's Hessian ancestor was part of that force attacking Manhattan ... the ancestor who would bring with him a very important musket that -- William was certain -- was the reason he was here with Keziah now.

"History must remain as it is, Keziah," he stressed with a quiet but firm tone. "Will you help me?"

He listened to her response, then stood and moved to the home's front door again, calling for the Sergeant who he knew was on duty still. When the enlisted man arrived, William said loud enough for the woman behind him to hear, "Sergeant, I would like to be able to enjoy what might be my last night alive with my wife ... if you know what I mean." The Sergeant glanced over William's shoulder at the Hessian's wife, even allowing his gaze to inappropriately lower to ogle her body before acknowledging his understanding with a devilish smirk. William continued, "Would I be asking too much to have your men pulled back a bit ... out of, um ... hearing range?"

The two men talked more in whispers for a moment before William closed the door and turned to look to Keziah. He crossed to stand just out of her reach before saying, "So ... for me to get to the guns tonight after most of the camp has gone to sleep ... I need the Guards outside to think I'm here still ... spending time with my wife."

She had wanted to argue that the Patriots using those guns would be a blessing, that maybe he was wrong about this war, at least in Boston, lasting for years. She didn't though, not when he asked her for help. Keziah chewed on the inside of her cheek as she went over the options. She could help him and leave Boston to the Redcoats, or she could simply persuade him to stay, or possibly even tell a soldier…but that'd end badly for her, wouldn't it? She wouldn't make it home and frankly she didn't want to think of the other possibilities.

"Samuel and Elizabeth live in South Boston." She pointed out, now thinking a bit more clearly. If the soldiers stormed the wall tomorrow then her brother and his wife would get caught in everything. She knew that they needed to get out of Boston and go somewhere safe so that baby of theirs could grow up without having to worry about soldiers fighting right in front of them. "If you find a way to help them…yes, I'll help you. Just please save my brother and his wife." They, along with her father, were the only family that Keziah had left. She didn't want to lose them.
She watched William quietly, still biting her cheek. Perhaps changing history wouldn't be so bad, would it? Keziah had no clue how to change history, how much change could be brought about by two guns? She didn't care to think of the possibilities, instead she observed the men talking.

Her cheeks flared red when she caught what they were talking about. It was convincing enough, many men wished to spend a night with their wives before going off to battle. Hell she'd eve heard the other nurses talking about the advances made by soldiers. When the Sergeant's eyes wandered lower than her own, she narrowed her eyes and turned away from him. Well she was a bit of a hypocrite, right? She'd let William see her in her nightclothes and he was a stranger (somewhat at least.) But to the men guarding their borrowed home, they were married and that meant in their minds that William had seen her in much less than her nightgown.

Keziah stared up at him owlishly, her blush coming back even worse. She bit her lip and looked away. "I…" She really didn't want to do that, but he hadn't pressed her before, like the other day when he came back in his new uniform. She sighed and stood up, reaching out and tugging him a little bit closer by his shirt.

"We're not doing that. It isn't proper but…We are supposed to be husband and wife, are we not? Well then, listen to your wife." Keziah unbuttoned his shirt quickly and examined the gun shot wound from when they'd first met. "I say you're healing nicely. Remember to keep it clean. Wouldn't want you to get those…ah…what were they called? Those little things that you can't see…" Keziah grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom. Her exhaustion hit her once she crossed through the doorway and she climbed into the bed, holding her arms out to him. It wasn't appropriate but if it kept the guards from getting suspicious then so be it. Plus she'd love the chance to catch them peeping through the windows.

She yawned, and once he was next to her in the bed, she curled close to him. For a little while she told him about her childhood near Lexington. Surely his childhood had been quite different than hers. All she had to play with were sticks and dolls made of old scraps of cloth with eyes made of dark colored string. Keziah's eyes felt heavy midway through the talk and she tried her best to stay awake.

"Samuel and Elizabeth live in South Boston ... If you find a way to help them…yes, I'll help you. Just please save my brother and his wife."

"I will, I promise you, Keziah," William said without hesitation, despite having absolutely no idea how he was going to make that happen. This had been a dangerous time for anyone sneaking about the countryside, but it would be even more dangerous for him as he didn't know the area any more than he had researched during his education.

When he returned from having arranged a private night with his wife, William smiled and chuckled when Keziah said, "We're not doing that..."

"Of course not," he told her, despite wanting so very badly to do that with the beauty. William had yearned for Keziah from the first moment he'd felt her fingers upon his flesh, tending to his wounds. But, as she'd stressed, it wasn't proper. She bared his top half, and soon they were in bed, with William pulling the young widow close to him. Keziah had told him about her now gone husband, and -- though she didn't know it -- Samuel had told William a little more about her most recent intended who also was no longer in her life. William wondered when the last time was that Keziah had been with a man in that not proper way. Did Good women, as he had called her, sometimes find a man to fulfill their animalistic needs in this day and age? He doubted it very much. If he leaned over her and pressed his lips to hers, would she respond by pulling him hard to her and telling him Proper or not, I want you inside me? William doubted that as well.

Instead, he listened to her talk of her life as he held her tight to his side, one arm behind her neck, the hand of the other clutching Keziah's arm that was laid across his chest. He began to realize that she was exhausted when her words began to fail her. He'd been peeking inconspicuously toward the window occasionally for Peeping Toms without any results, and then suddenly there was indeed a face at the glass. Without seeming to notice the Guard, William rolled until he was hovering over Keziah.

"We're being watched, so ... time to pretend to be husband and wife," he said. He leaned down closer to her, almost until their lips met, and shifted his elbow to make it appear as if his arm was in places where only an 18th century husband should touch his wife. He whispered, "I'm going to turn the lamp down ... remove my trousers ... and come back to bed." He smiled, adding, "Don't worry ... we're not doing that."

He leaned closer yet again, to kiss her on the cheek -- soft but unhurried -- then rose from the bed to begin removing his trousers. William had arrived in the 18th century wearing a Hessian uniform for authenticity at the reenactment, but he'd always been a practical man so underneath it he was wearing a pair of modern underwear that did nothing to hide the erection that was forming within it. Once his Militia uniform trousers were on the ground, William took a step back, rapped a fist on the window frame, and growled, "Git!". There was laughter beyond the wall, which faded as not one but two Guards departed. William reached to turn the lamp down until it was barely lit at all, then made his way back to stand over the bed.

"Are you ready not to make love with your hero husband before he goes off to fight the dreaded Redcoats..." he said, trying to make light of the situation but fearing that he'd only embarrassed Keziah. He finished his question with, "Missus William Kutcher?"

She'd been well on her way to dream land when he suddenly rolled over onto her. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red than when she'd caught him nude. This was certainly not proper but so the guard watching through their windows. "I'm going to stone them." She muttered, more embarrassed that they'd been peeling rather than their current situation (which indeed was awkward, and she felt mildly bad about the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach.)
She watched him curiously as he got up to turn off the lamp. Seeing what was underhis trousers was...well what were those things. She'd seen men's undergarments but...they didn't look like that. Before she could voice her curiosity about what he was wearing, the alerted the guards to the fact thay they knew they were watching. Her face burned in shame and she hid her face with her hands.

When he returned to the bed she couldn't help but laugh a little. "My darling hero husband needs to come back in one piece." Her heart beat just a little faster when he called her missus. It had been a while since she'd heard anyone call her that. When he climbed back into the bed beside her, she did curl closer, but kept enough distance to be comfortable. "I do want you to come back. Safely. If I find you on one of those cots used for wounded soldiers I'll be very upset. And a smart man doesn't upset his wife." Keziah told him. "And if...if you come back then maybe, just maybe something can be started here." She gestured between them. "Not that. I'd like other things from you too."

Keziah couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom around him. The last man she'd been courting had been very much about male dominance and keeping her in line. Why she ever thought she'd marry him was beyond her. Perhaps she had been lonely. Charles hadn't minded her temper, and when she'd ask too many questions and ask forbooks he'd oblige. Hell he didn't even mind giving her control either. They had been married for a few months but had courted long before that. The way that William was treating her reminded her of Charles. But he wasn't her late husband, she knew that, and she wasn't going to imagine thay he was Charles. It wasn't fair to either of them.

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and bid him a good night before rolling over and going to sleep.

---

She was awoken the next morning by the faint sounds of booms. It wasn't uncommon to hear canons, even when she did live in Boston so it didn't strike her as off until she realized that she'd been sleeping pressed against William's side. In her sleepy state she couldn't remember why her waking up tucked under his chin was a bad idea. Then it hit her thay he must not have gone out last night. "William get up!" She yelled, hurrying out of the bed and grabbing the nearest overcoat she could find. She slipped it on, mostly to provide herself with some modesty just in case the guards were to peep through the windows again.

Keziah wondered where the guards were, they should have alerted them to this. William had helped recover those howitzers after all. She looked out of the windows nervously and wondered if her brother and his wife were okay. Keziah pushed her hands through her hair when she thought back to her nightmare the day before. It did little to settle her, in fact it made her worse. But maybe there was a chance that it was just another skirmish and not the Patriots retaking Boston a little too soon.