Miracles and Massacres by Glenn Beck Read Free Book Online

before.”
    Such arrogant chatter failed to frighten Buffington. As he continued toward Shays, he wondered who had promoted the man to such an exalted rank. When he saw Shays’ own greeting—a pistol in one hand, a drawn sword in the other—he got the feeling that these mobbers were taking themselves a little too seriously.
    Two can play this game , he thought. Buffington’s first words virtually slapped Shays across the face. “I’m here,” he pronounced, “in defense of the country you are endeavoring to destroy.”
    â€œIf you are in defense of the country,” Shays shot back, “then we are both defending the same cause.”
    â€œI expect we have differing views on what that means,” Buffington countered.
    â€œLet me be clear, then: we are taking the arsenal and public buildings in Springfield.” Shays’ bravado was overflowing, but his swagger suddenly abated. “Will they fight?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with concern.
    â€œYou can count on it,” said Buffington.
    â€œThat’s all I want,” Shays lied, as he wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. Despite his restored bluster, he wondered whether a woolen scarf might not be the only thing wrapped round his neck in the near future.
    Buffington thought the same thing. “If you advance,” he warned Shays, “you will meet those men we are both accustomed to obey.”
    Buffington rode away, hoping for the best, but more fearful than ever that the worst was yet to come.
    Continental Arsenal
    Springfield, Massachusetts
    January 25, 1787
    William Shepard paced nervously, awaiting Buffington’s return. Would he bear news of Shays’ capitulation? No, that was too much to hope for. These mobbers would have to be brought to reason not by cool words but with hot lead.
    A militia member approached Shepard with a piece of paper. “General, a message . . . from Captain Day.”
    Shepard slowly removed his kidskin gloves and unfolded the document handed him. “Headquarters,” it began, “West Springfield, January 25, 1787.”
    â€œHeadquarters!” Shepard snorted, “You would think that loudmouth brigand would at least see combat before assuming such airs. I know damned well where his ‘Headquarters’ is—it’s the ‘Stebbins Tavern,’ a place better suited to commanding bottles than battles.”
    Shepard read on:
    The body of the people assembled in arms, adhering to the first principles in nature, self-preservation, do, in the most peremptory manner, demand:
    1. That the troops in Springfield lay down their arms.
    2. That their arms be deposited in the public stores, under the care of the proper officers, to be returned to the owners at the termination of the present contest.
    3. That the troops return to their homes upon parole.
    Your Excellency’s most obedient, humble servant,
Luke Day.
Captain Commandant of this division.
    Shepard sighed. This game would be funny if it were not so deadly: neighbors firing on neighbors, a state torn asunder, and a braggart in a tavern issuing orders to a lawfully elected government.
    We’ll see soon enough , Shepard thought, just who tenders parole to whom .
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œCompany’s right on time,” William Shepard muttered. “Very polite of them.”
    He watched a small parade of men struggling through massive snowdrifts on the Boston Road growing larger and larger still.
    â€œCaptain Buffington, Colonel Lyman, will you do the honors? Ask them what they want—for posterity’s record.”
    â€œMy pleasure, General,” said Lyman. Both Lyman and Buffington quickly ascended their mounts to meet Shays’ advancing Regulator forces. If Shepard’s militia could not yet see “the whites” of the mobbers’ eyes from the arsenal, they could easily see their steamy