The Gentle Rebel by Gilbert Morris Read Free Book Online Page B

he’s not like Father.” He paused and the sound of the iron shoes on the frozen ground punctuated the cold silence, and a small smile touched his broad lips as he added, “But then, nobody else is like him, either!”
    “Well, I sure hope they ain’t finished supper yet,” Caleb said. “My belly feels like my throat’s been cut! I’ve sure heard a lot, though, about how fancy Aunt Dorcas is. She might bow up over having us at her best table, dirty as we are.”
    “Might be right,” Nathan nodded, then added with a touch of warning in his voice, “Don’t think they’ll chuck us out for being trail worn—but you keep your revolutionary talk to yourself, Caleb. You mind what Father told us about Uncle Charles.”
    “Yaaaaa! Makes me sick!” Caleb scowled and gave Dan a hard kick. “Think of Winslows being a bunch of Tories!”
    “That’s what I mean!” Nathan said sharply, and he reached out and grabbed Caleb’s arm strongly. “You keep that talk to yourself while we are here—and stay away from that rabble that calls itself Sons of Liberty, you hear me?”
    Caleb turned suddenly, and his customary smile faded. His square face turned stubborn, and for one instant Nathan had the feeling that he was looking into his father’s dark eyes. “I’ll say what I think, Nathan—here or anywhere else!”
    Hot words leaped to Nathan’s lips, but he bit them off. He and Caleb had been through this many times, and it always ended with both of them white-lipped with anger. No use to argue with him, he thought wearily. Mother and Father feel the same way, so it’s no wonder he’s getting to be a fire-eater. But he only shook his head, saying in a reasonable tone, “Look, just keep your political opinions to yourself, Caleb—while we’re here. Because if you don’t, we’ll get sent home quick, and Father won’t ever let us do anything like this again.”
    The latter warning seemed to have some effect, for Caleb quickly shut off his protests and said only, “Well, guess you’re right about that, Nathan—but it goes against the grain!”
    Darkness fell quickly, and they managed to get lost inside the city, so that by the time they pulled up in front of a large white house on the outskirts of town, Nathan had to lean down and put his face to the sign. He made out the letters, straightened up, and said, “This is it. Come on.”
    A long ice-packed drive led to the house, and the rising wind made the frozen branches click overhead as they passed beneath. Tying their horses to an iron fence that set off a flowerbed, they mounted the high steps, and Nathan gave a couple of firm raps with the heavy brass knocker on the massive door.
    Caleb shifted nervously as they waited, and finally he said, “Maybe we should have gone to the back door.”
    Nathan stared at him, then said, “What did that sign say over the door at the warehouse?”
    Caleb thought, then answered, “The Winslow Company.”
    “That’s right—and my name is Winslow. You go to the back door if you feel like it.” He turned to hide a smile, for his taunt had done exactly what he’d expected—turned Caleb stubborn, which wasn’t too hard to do in any case.
    The door slowly opened, just a crack, and a black face appeared. “The family is at dinner. Is you expected?”
    Nathan shot back, “Not all the family’s at dinner. Go tell your master his nephews from Virginia are here!”
    The steely quality in Nathan’s voice must have startled the black man, for he quickly opened the door, and gave a nervous nod, saying, “Oh yas, indeed! You gentlemen come inside, please.” He shut the door behind them and gave another nervous nod. “I’ll tell Mistuh Winslow you is here!”
    He turned to go, but at that moment, a voice called out from down the long hall, “Well—well! What’s this? Is it you, Nathan?”
    A tall man with bright blue eyes and reddish hair had emerged from a set of double doors and now came forward. He held out his hand,