Preview of my historical fiction novel about the Revolutionary War Encampments at Redding CT

This is a preview of a historical fiction novel I have been working on for several months. As many of you already know, I highly respect what  My Brother Sam is Dead has to offer its readers through the stories Tim Meeker tells us. The topics and situations the authors wove into the story help us to better understand what people were experiencing and feeling in that time period when we look a little deeper into the content. 

My only disappointment with My Brother Sam is Dead is that it ended; I wanted to know more. In the quest to know more I fell in love with a topic that I honestly had no interest in prior to reading My Brother Sam is Dead- The Revolutionary War. This new passion led not only to research but relationships with experts on this topic that boosted my interest levels even higher and inspired me to share my knowledge of these topics with others as well.

This novel is my attempt to pick up where My Brother Sam is Dead left off and tell you the story of what it was like to live in Redding in the Winter of 1778-79. Throughout this novel I will be weaving in my knowledge (as the Collier's did) of this time period and the situations and issues individuals were dealing with within the content. 

Okay, enough talk...

Your narrator is Jonas Fairchild. Jonas is 13 years old and lives within walking distance to the middle encampment. His friend and mentor is a Native American Indian named Tom Warrups. Tom is in his 30's and lives just up the hill from Jonas and his family. Through Tom, Jonas learns about Indian culture and their way of life. 

This preview highlights their special relationship...

Chapter Three- The Day I Learned of Skunny Wundy

Mushrooms prefer warm, damp conditions and have a remarkably short life span. Many form, grow and die off completely in a matter of hours. So after a rainy evening, you have to head into the woods as quickly as possible in the morning; especially this time of year. I was up and out the door with my forage pouch well before dawn, my dog Phineas came too. Just over the ridge from our house is a swamp bordered by evergreens that produces the most delicious tasting mushrooms that we call  "breakfast mushrooms" because they go so well with eggs. 

Today was a big day for my Father, he was meeting with some Sapers and Miners from Washington's Army at the mill so I foraged quickly while Phin hunted frogs. There were so many mushrooms that I had my fill in no time and we were back at the house just as everyone else was getting up. I dropped my pouch off in the kitchen for my mother and headed out to the hen house for eggs.

By the time I was to the garden I could hear them, there was trouble- they were squawking, all of them, and it was loud. I dropped the basket and ran, ran as fast as I could. As I came tearing around the corner of the hen house we locked eyes. It was a Fox! and he had our Rooster "Roger" by the tail.

"Drop him!!" I yelled.

"Git!"

I reached for the Sickle hanging from the fence but before I could grab it Phineas came flying across the meadow full speed. Phin was in attack mode and that Fox didn't have a chance.

Phin blasted into the hen yard, teeth showing and his hackles sky high. 

The Fox jumped, turned tail running and never looked back.

"Oh, Roger. Poor Roger, are you okay?" I said sympathetically as I made my way over to him.

I wasn't sure if he was hurt, but he looked pretty rough. The Fox had left him with just one tail feather.

I continued to soothe and re-assure him as I looked him over and tell him how proud I was of him for protecting his chickens. He didn’t seem to have anything else physically wrong with him so I advised him to take it easy for awhile and I placed him on his perch.

I went back for my basket, gathered up some eggs and made my way back to the kitchen.

My mom was waiting for me at the door.

Before I could explain anything she ran me up and down.

"Where have you been Jonas? What was so important that's delayed you? You know your Father has a very important day today, don't you?"

I tried to explain- "Mom, Mom... I know, I know. I'm sorry, but Roger..."

But, before I could get another word out, she cut me short, grabbed my ear and ushered me to the table.

I sat down in a heap. Totally deflated. "No one ever listens to me" I thought to myself.

Then... "Ouuuuuuuuch!" a completely uncalled for poke to the ribs from Philip. "What was that for?"

"Making us all late." said Philip

"Yeah, what were you doing out there all that time?" David chimed in.

"What was I doing? What was I doing??"

"Yes. What were you doing out there Jonas?" It was Father and his tone was cold. 

I wasn't going to take any chance of getting cut off again, so I just said it.

"A Fox attacked Roger."

"What?!!"

"Is he alright?"

"Did we lose any Chickens?"

"He's not dead is he?"

"What did you do?"

The questions were coming from every direction until Father's sharp, clear whistle grabbed everyone's attention, the room fell quiet and I said:

"Roger's not hurt, he's in shock but he's not hurt."

"Did you kill the Fox? Asked Abby.

"No," I said "but I don't think he'll be back here. Phineas has likely chased him half-way to Ridgefield by now and my guess is once Phin let's up that Fox just might keep going and take up residence in New York."

Everybody laughed, including Mom who was just coming in with breakfast.

"Scrambled eggs and mushrooms, mmmmm." David was so happy he was bouncing up and down.

Scrambled eggs and mushrooms is his favorite dish and my Mom's recipe is amazing.

She sautes the mushrooms in butter until they soften, covers them with eggs, then waits for the mixture to stiffen, adds a sprinkle of herbs and spice and scrambles them until they're done. It's so good.

After breakfast we all got on to our chores. It was Saturday and there was a lot to do- I had to weed in the garden, go to the wood lot to gather acorns, then head over to the West mill to help my brothers clean out the saw pits. I brought my fishing line just in case there was some time afterward to try my luck in the mill pond.

Phin came back just as I was finishing up at the garden, I tried to entice him to come with me to the wood lot but he was too tired. I left him sprawled out behind the barn and headed out to the road. It was getting close to mid-day and increasingly warm, so I took off my hat, rolled up my sleeves and tried to stay in the shade as much as I could as I walked.

Fortunately, our wood lot isn't too far from our house and a small stream runs through the back. Upon arrival I quickly scouted for fresh acorns and then made my way over to the stream to cool off a little and sit down for a snack. The water felt good, it was cold and refreshing. Feeling much better, I sat down. But as I opened my bag, I heard a loud crack over my right shoulder. Then a branch snapped, then another and another. Someone was walking towards me. I dropped my bag, made myself small, skurried over to a rock with a dead tree leaning against it, hunkered down and listened.

But whatever it was was gone by that point. Branches were no longer cracking, and the forest was silent, eerily silent; there wasn't a sound. "That's strange." I thought. "Things don't just disappear."

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind when everything around me shook as something large came pouncing down behind me.

"HELLO SNACK!" Said a loud booming voice.

I nearly jumped out of my shoes. I was so scared I was frozen, I couldn't even scream.

But the fear only lasted a moment, I knew that laugh well. It was Tom Warrups and he got me good.

"That was NOT nice Tom!" I scolded when I finally caught my breath.

"That was a good one. Jonas very scared. Ha-Ha-Ha! Tom is much pleased with himself."

"How did you sneak up on me like that? And what's "Hello Snack!" all about? Is that an Indian saying or something? You really scared me Tom!"

Tom's laughter trailed off, he took out a cloth, and wiped off his brow. "Indians don't hunt with guns like the white man Jonas. Indians hunt with arrows and spears.

We have to get much closer to the animal to kill it. Our style of hunting requires stalking. With many, many years of practice you too can become a "ghost in the forest" Jonas. I have never told you of Skunny Wundy?"

"No." I said, "What's a Skunny Wundy?"

"'Skunny Wundy' is a boy in an old Indian legend." He said. "Are you here to collect Acorns for Acorn Bread?" He asked.

"Yes. Acorn Bread and Cookies." I answered.

"Will you share some with me?"

"Yes."

"Then I will tell you how Skunny Wundy and the Turtle out smarted the Stone Giant."

And Tom proceeded to tell me the Legend of Skunny Wundy:

Long ago, there lived a young boy named Skunny Wundy, his name meant "Cross The Creek." He wasn't particularly large and he wasn't particularly strong, but Skunny Wundy was very clever. The one particular talent that he possessed was skipping stones across the water. Skunny Wundy could make a stone skip more times across the river that cut through his village than anyone else in his tribe.

Now, the people of Skunny Wundy's village had always traveled along this river. But they only traveled South. Children were always cautioned to never go North, because to the North was the land of the Stone Giants, large fierce monsters who loved the taste of human flesh. Luckily, Stone Giants weren't very bright, so as long as they didn't see people, they usually forgot they existed. Which is why the people of Skunny Wundy's village always traveled South and never traveled North.

One day, Skunny Wundy was walking along the river skipping stones and paying no attention to the direction he was going. He walked and walked and walked until suddenly he was startled by a Crow. He stopped, looked around and realized that he was very far from his village and traveling North!

Just as he was about to turn and run home, a thunderous voice boomed down from above him:

"A PEO-PLE! MY FAVORITE SNACK!"

Skunny Wundy looked up, terrified, it was a Stone Giant! He was huge and he was mean and, as the name suggested, his skin looked as solid as granite. Skunny Wundy knew that if he tried to run, the Giant would surely catch him, so he took a deep breath and decided to reason with him:

"You don't want to eat me, I'm nothing more than a bite to you!"

Reasoning wasn't going to work...

"THAT'S OKAY, I HAVEN'T HAD A BITE ALL DAY!" said the Stone Giant, licking his lips.

Skunny Wundy knew his only chance was to outsmart the Giant.

"How about a contest?" he said hopefully. The Stone Giant looked interested, so Skunny Wundy pressed on.

"I challenge you to a stone skipping contest! We'll each skip a stone across the river and whoever gets theirs to skip the most times wins. If you win, you can...eat me. But if I win, you have to let me go free."

The Stone Giant thought about it for a moment, scooped up a boulder and said:

"OKAY, LET'S GO!!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Skunny Wundy said motioning with both hands for the Giant to hold up.

"That boulder may work fine for you. But there's not a stone here that I can even lift, let alone skip. How about I come back tomorrow with a stone more my size and then we'll have our contest?" said Skunny.

The Stone Giant looked down at him and thought and thought and thought. Skunny Wundy began to worry this trick might not work.

But, finally, the Giant agreed:

"SOUNDS GOOD!" he rumbled. "I SEE YOU TOMORROW!"

Skunny Wundy jumped up, clicked his heals, turned south and ran; laughing the whole way home.

But when he got home, he realized something- Yes, he had outsmarted the Giant, but he had also made a promise. He had promised the Stone Giant that he would return.

If he didn't show up for the contest tomorrow the Giant might come looking for him. What if the Giant decided to come looking for him, headed south down the river path, and in the process found his people's village and ate up all Skunny's friends and relatives? It would be tragic and it all would be his fault. Skunny Wundy knew that he couldn't do that to his people and decided that despite the personal risk he would return the next day and compete in the stone skipping contest he had agreed to.

At daybreak the next morning, Skunny Wundy set off towards the land of Giants, checking the ground for good stones the whole way. Unfortunately, there were none and when he finally reached the spot where the Giant was waiting for him, he knew the stone he had in hand wouldn't skip enough to beat a Giant's throw; it was too light to travel any great distance.

"WELCOME BACK, SNACK!" the Giant laughed as he picked up his boulder again.

Skunny Wundy watched dejectedly as the boulder skipped out across the water once, twice, three times...gaining speed as it went, by the time it splashed into the water for the final time, the Giant's stone had skipped fifteen times!

"HA!! AGH-HA-HA! BEAT THAT, SNACK!" the Giant roared pounding his chest.

Skunny Wundy knew his throw would be hard to beat.

"Skunny Wundy!" a soft voice suddenly whispered.

Skunny Wundy looked all around, but could not find the source of the voice. He heard it again: "Skunny Wundy, down here, down here! Pick me up and use me!"

Skunny Wundy looked down to see a tiny turtle at his feet. He picked the turtle up and again the turtle said: "You can you use me!" Then the animal tucked its head, feet and tail into its shell. And as simple as that, the turtle had become a perfect skipping stone.

Skunny Wundy smiled and whispered quietly to the turtle:

"My life is in your hands, little friend. But we can do this. Together we can do this, together we are one, we will beat this Giant."

Then he reared back his arm, took a deep breath and sent the shell skipping out across the water. Once, twice, three times it skipped, he thought with plenty of speed, but on the thirteenth skip, it turned sideways and it appeared that skip would be his last. But as the corner of the shell was about to crash into the water, suddenly the turtle kicked out his legs. The shell flattened and bounced off the water's surface, skipping again and again and again!

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" bellowed the Stone Giant, FURIOUS that he had lost.

He spun and slashed a large pine tree, shattering it like a twig.

Then he roared: "AGHHHHHHHHHH!" and Skunny was very frightened, the Giant could not seem to contain his rage.

But then the Giant stopped abruptly, looked down at Skunny and said:

"GO! LEAVE HERE THIS INSTANT! BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!"

Skunny Wundy wasn't taking any chances. He quickly blurted: "Thank You!!" and turned and ran as fast as he could until he reached his home.

Over the years, Skunny Wundy had many more encounters with the Stone Giants, but that is how he survived his first...with the help of the Turtle Clan.

When Tom was finished, I asked him if the story had any special meaning. He nodded and explained that his people had lived on these lands for tens of thousands of years and how they had done this had a lot to do with how they interacted with the Earth and all its creatures. Indians did not work the land, they worked with the land and sought harmony with its creatures. The Turtle in the story symbolizes the Earth. The Turtle helps Skunny Wundy which is symbolic of the Earth helping Man.  My people believe we are a part of the earth and it is a part of us, we are brothers working together. Skunny acknowledges this relationship when he says: "Together we are one."

"What does the Giant symbolize?" I asked.

"The Giant's ways are egotistical and wasteful, he gets his way using force. He takes from the land whatever he needs and when he has what he needs he moves on. The Earth is not his brother. That is why it was important that Skunny Wundy and the Turtle won the contest. It is a story used to teach our children that the Earth is our brother, and we must treat the Earth and its creatures with kindness."

I smiled, thanked him and told him if I had any luck at the mill pond later I'd bring him back some trout.

He left and I quickly collected as many green acorns as my pouch could hold. By now the sun was at full strength and I returned to the stream to cool off one last time before heading over the mill to help my brothers.

As I dipped my hat into the water, three painted turtles plunged from their log into the water- plip, plop, ploop.

"Well, I guess I can't count on you guys should any Stone Giants venture this way." I said with a laugh.

I picked up a stone, skipped it across the water and started on my way towards the mill.


Chapter Four- Preparing for the Winter Encampments-

I awoke to light rain on November 14th, it was Tuesday, I had school down in the Center mid-morning so I could have slept a bit more if I wanted but the fall forage had gotten me into the habit of getting up early; I was up and that was that. I sat with my tea cupped in one hand thumbing through my journal with the other, it had been just over two months since Stephen had seen the soldiers over at Read's old wood lot, and as I skimmed over my entries, I was amazed by how much had happened here in Redding over that short stretch of time.

Soon after Stephen's sighting we learned that Colonel Aaron Burr, one of General Putnam's aides and a frequent visitor to Redding, was the one that had advised General Putnam to ride through and consider our township for encampments following his visit with General Heath's Brigade in July. Heath's troops were stationed near the supply depots just North of Redding (in the town of Danbury) which explained all the soldiers we had frequenting Redding back then.

General Putnam liked what he saw in Redding, and with George Washington's approval three Redding camp locations were selected. Our saw mills bordered two of the three encampment sites and initially the Army proposed that roof slabs and door boards would be cut here and taken to the camps by teamsters. My Father asked them to reconsider because the work to provide the roof slabs and door boards required would bring his regular business to a halt. He showed the Army engineers his saw pits when they visited our mills in October and explained how easy it would be to replicate them at the encampments. They agreed and with Father and Uncle Ephraim's help each camp will be outfitted with saw pits prior to the troops arrival.

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