Be a Fly on the Wall with Another Sneak Peek into Soldiers Don’t Cry

On March 28, 1774, Britain passed Coercive Act against Massachusetts, but the Americans in Boston didn’t feel its effects until June 1 of the same year when the act was activated. Wouldn’t you have loved to be a fly on the wall of Boston patriots when they discovered that Parliament intended to make Bostonians pay for their insubordination at the Boston Tea Party? In Chapter 4 of Soldiers Don’t Cry, Elizabeth Thorton (our heroine) and Peter Mayford (her brother-in-law and Boston merchant) have just learned that the Coercive Act has gone into effect and the Port of Boston  has closed.

The crystal on the mantel and chandelier tinkled. Elizabeth heard her brother-in-law, Peter Mayford, cursing with each stomp.
“You’re home early, Peter,” Elizabeth said quietly. She did not need to turn around to see who it was. She finished her task and faced him, anyway.
“They closed the port! They brought another warship into Boston Harbor today and they closed the port!”
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and scolded. “There’s no reason to be cursing through the house.”
“I have every reason to be cursing! I cannot believe you are taking this so calmly. My business involves working at the port! Have you forgotten that I am a shipping merchant? Those fancy silk fabrics I bought you were not only brought in on my ship, they were paid for by those ships being able to come and go from this port!”
“Yes, Peter,” she patronized. “I’m totally aware of those facts. We also knew King George was planning to close the port, and we are ready for it. The king calls this act the Coercive Act.”
“Intolerable Act if you ask me!” Peter Mayford huffed.
“You’re not the first person I’ve heard call them ‘intolerable.’ Every Patriot I’ve met in this city calls those acts ‘intolerable,’” Elizabeth added. “Peter, I don’t know why you’re so upset. When you heard the rumors that Parliament was closing the port, you moved your ships up to Salem. At least you can be thankful you had warning.”
“Thankful, I should be thankful for what? Have you not heard what I am saying? My main business is here in Boston, not Salem. A shipping merchant cannot do business from almost a hundred miles away. Do you know how inconvenient it will be for me to have to travel overland to Salem in order to conduct my shipping business?”
Elizabeth folded her hands in front of her. “You did expect some repercussions from the little tea party you and your ‘Indian’ friends had last winter, didn’t you?”
“I can understand the repercussions, certainly, but not closing the port. The port provides the livelihood of most of the people in this town. What is the king trying to do? Is he trying to drive New England to rebellion? He is treating us like children who he has a right to discipline. In Annapolis they burned a ship full of tea and all we did was. . .”
“Share the British tea with the seagulls,” Elizabeth giggled. Then she became serious. “Honestly, Peter, you make it sound like it’s the end of the world. I wish you would keep your voice down. Rachel might hear you, if she hasn’t heard you bellowing already.”
“Rachel is home? I thought she would be at the market. Where is she?”
“She is upstairs working with the loom. She’s trying to finish the broadcloth she’s working on for Jonathan’s new britches.”
Jonathan was Peter and Rachel’s twelve-year-old eldest son.
“Outgrowing his clothes again, huh?”
“Yes, Peter, your son is growing up.”
A shadow came over Peter’s face. “He’s a lot like my friend Matthew was when we were children. Matthew was always ripping his pants on something. I wonder what Matthew would have said about the most recent turn of events?”
Elizabeth empathized with Peter’s loss of his friend. “If he were alive today, I can guarantee he would have been right beside you dumping the tea into the harbor. What was the ship’s name? It was the Beaver, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, the ship was called the Beaver, and you’re right, Matthew would have been right beside me. I’m sure he would have.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, he was the radical sort, wasn’t he? He was the one who first introduced you to Sam Adams, wasn’t he?”
“No, John Adams introduced me to Sam Adams. Matthew introduced me to Paul Revere.”
Elizabeth watched Peter’s troubled face. He was probably reliving the afternoon on March 5, 1770, when King George’s soldiers opened fire and murdered Peter’s friend Matthew Wilds. The events of March 5, 1770, changed Peter Mayford’s life forever. The day started like any other day. Peter was working at his office near Hancock’s Wharf when one of his clerks told him about the commotion at the square. Eyewitnesses told him about the insults exchanged between a barber’s boy and the soldiers in the square in front of the statehouse. A crowd gathered to join the argument. The crowd threw snowballs and sticks at the detachment. The maddened soldiers retaliated by shoving their bayonets toward the crowd.
Peter decided to investigate. From a half block away, Peter distinctly heard the command to fire. He ran down the street as fast as he could toward where the shots were fired, but the oncoming crowd running away from the gunfire jostled him. When he finally reached his friend, Peter found Matthew lying in a pool of his own blood, dead from a gunshot wound to his chest. As he held his friend to his body and Matthew’s blood flowed from the fatal wound, Peter vowed he would do everything in his power to avenge his friend’s death.
Peter had been one of the many people who testified against Captain Preston, the commander of the British detachment, and six of his men at the trial when they were tried for the murder of five men who died on the fifth day of March. The Patriots memorialized the day and designated the “Boston Massacre.”
Oddly enough, widely known Patriots John Adams and Josiah Quincy were the defense attorneys for the soldiers. John Adams was able to get Captain Preston and most of his men acquitted, and this put a rift between Peter and John Adams—a rift Elizabeth doubted would ever be repaired.
For years, John Adams had been a family friend, ever since he acquitted Elizabeth’s mother of murder. Drusilla’s trial had been the first case Adams defended. It was four years before Elizabeth was born, but Elizabeth heard the trial recounted many times. Her father, Kanter Thorton, and her sister, Rachel, had helped John Adams clear Drusilla’s name and bring the true murderers—Mark and Phyllis, John Codman’s black slaves—to trial.
In 1770, however, Adams agreed to defend the soldiers at the Boston Massacre trial, and Peter was outraged. He could not believe a family friend would become such a turncoat by defending the enemy.
In his closing argument of the famous trial, Adams stated the soldiers had been provoked and the commanding officer had not been the one to issue the command, and though he did not believe their actions were totally justified, it was not an act of premeditated murder.
Elizabeth personally was not sure that Peter’s reaction was justified, because she knew that John Adams was as furious as the majority of the people in the courtroom with the verdict. The judge let five go free. The punishment given to the other two was a searing brand to the palms of their hands. The death of his friend and five others along with the broken friendship were merely scars on the palms of two men from the squad of men responsible.
For a while, all seemed quiet. Despite the cooled tempers, Peter’s anger remained kindled with help from Sam Adams’ numerous articles in the Boston Gazette. Then on November 3, 1772, Peter, who was one of the members of the Boston Committee of Correspondence, helped draft the second document that declared the infringements and violations of the rights of the colonists. His coastal ships helped distribute letters from Boston to the other seacoast cities in North America. These letters of correspondence instructed the other colonists on how they could collectively respond to the infringements and violations foisted on them by the Crown.
Then the announcement came from Parliament. They passed the Tea Act on May 10, 1773. Peter arranged for the captain of one of his ships to make secret, illegal deals with the Dutch to bring in a shipload of Dutch tea disguised in salt barrels, thereby avoiding the tax. He then devised a network of prominent Patriot businessmen who would buy the tea and distribute it among the colonists of Massachusetts.
During the autumn of 1773, the Boston Committee of Correspondence asked the Boston, merchants whom the crown supported to resign from their posts. Even though these consigned merchants in New York and Charlestown, Massachusetts, resigned, the tenacious merchants in Boston refused to resign. On November 28, three ships, filled with the notorious taxed tea, docked in Boston Harbor.
The Boston Committee of Correspondence met with the committees of neighboring towns at the Old South Meetinghouse. The members unanimously voted to send the tea back to England. They further resolved that if these resolutions were put into effect, the citizens should be willing to risk their lives and their property to resist the tyranny. The Committees of Correspondence sent copies of the resolutions to the other colonies and to England.
The Boston Committees of Correspondence’s decisions led to the already infamous event known as the Boston Tea Party. Peter laughed when Elizabeth told about the popularized version of what happened the night of December 16. Peter denied that they had planned to dress as Mohawks. The idea of dressing as Mohawks was a spur of the moment decision. The participants dabbed paint on their faces and put old blankets over their clothing to disguise their identities. He agreed it was a brilliant plan, but premeditated, it was not. They had never actually intended for the sailors to think they were real Mohawks. They disguised themselves to keep authorities from discovering each participant’s exact identity.
No one doubted that Parliament and King George would seek reprisal. In preparation for the inevitable, during a January emergency meeting, the Patriots agreed to establish ammunition depot barns in Charlestown and Concord to prepare for any military retaliation. Peter agreed to utilize his “tea” ship to bring in lead from the motherland and more “salt” from Holland (this time in the form of gunpowder). Peter’s cargo arrived May 13, the same day General Thomas Gage, the military governor of Massachusetts, arrived in Boston Harbor. The rumor that Parliament was closing the Boston Port arrived with his ship.
General Gage and his beautiful wife, Margaret, moved into the Governor’s Mansion. On the same day that the military governor arrived in Boston and was unloading his army’s cannon, Peter’s men unloaded Peter’s ship filled with small kegs of gunpowder along with lead bars that were hidden in barrels of salt. They worked day and night in order to get the ship unloaded before the June 1 deadline. On the night of May 29, the ship was empty, and the following morning the ship sailed from Boston Harbor. Peter’s ship was the last ship to clear the port before the port closed.
By June 1, Peter assigned well-trusted men to remove the gunpowder from the casks of salt in his warehouse. The ammunition was then smuggled to various Patriot blacksmiths and silversmiths of the city. There they were made into musket balls and then smuggled to Charlestown inside the clothing and saddlebags of citizens of Boston. Gunpowder was smuggled in the same manner. All this activity was right under the noses of the British Regular Army, which was already beginning to occupy the city. If General Gage noticed the unusual number of Charlestown citizens who bought “salt,” had silver to repair, or had emergency horseshoe repairs, he did nothing to stop the Patriots’ activities.
The chain of events beginning with Peter taking revenge for a friend’s death had become what the British government would now consider outright treason. If the government ever discovered Peter’s activities, the authorities would try him for smuggling as well as conspiracy to overthrow the British government in the American colonies.
A second shipment of ammunition was due in after June 1, but with the threat of the port closing, Peter sent another ship out to warn the ship to anchor not in Boston Harbor but in the port of Salem.
Peter diverted a fleet of wagons that normally took freight inland, sending them down the North American coast from the port of Salem to Boston. He wanted the wagons to take the ammunition and other provisions that the ship delivered in Salem down to Boston.
Even though the Boston port was closed and it would slow neither of his operations, Peter’s regular business as an import merchant nor his smuggling operation would stop.
A loud pounding on the front door brought Peter back to the present.
Elizabeth looked from the door to her brother-in-law. “Do you want me to answer the door?”
“No, I’ll answer it. I don’t have anything better to do,” he murmured. “General Gage has me reduced to a butler’s status.”
Peter marched to the front door and opened it wide. There at the door stood a private dressed in the red uniform with gold buttons worn by members of the Regular Army. In his hands, he held a scroll. He cleared his throat and read the following:
“Hear ye, hear ye, by order of Parliament, beginning tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, you are instructed to quarter two officers of the British Regular Army. It will be your responsibility to prepare adequate and proper rooming as well as proper food for said officers in a manner as to which they are accustomed.”
“And what, young man, does the Crown consider the proper food as to which they are accustomed?” Peter asked.
“Officers have been assigned homes based on their rank, sir. The food they would be accustomed to, sir, would be the same food served to the family at the dinner table.”
“And what officers have been assigned here?”
“Two captains, sir,” the young boy replied.
“I’m not as wealthy as I thought,” Peter said dryly. “I thought we’d at least be worthy of lieutenant-colonels.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mayford. Do you have any more questions?”
Peter shook his head. “No, thank you. You may go.”
Peter closed the door none too gently. He turned to face Elizabeth, who had followed him in from the kitchen.
Peter put up his hands as a sign of distress. “Now I’ve heard everything! Can they invade us more than this? First they close my port, and then they move into my home.”
Elizabeth laughed at Peter’s animation. “Peter, I don’t think the king did this to upset you personally.”
“Well, you couldn’t prove it by me.”
“It could be worse,” Elizabeth replied. “One of them could marry into the family.”
Peter was not amused by Elizabeth’s attempt to humor him. “Don’t be absurd. I would never allow you or one of my daughters to marry a Redcoat. Besides, what Redcoat officer in his right mind would marry a Patriot?”

To read Soldiers Don’t Cry or for more information about the book, follow this link.

Free Book Vegetable Gardening in the Shade

and Newsletter: Cygnet’s News

????????????????????????If you haven’t yet received your copy of Vegetable Gardening in the Shade, do so now by clicking on this link and receive a subscription to my newsletter Cygnet’s News as well. In this newsletter, you will be able to keep up with events that I will be attending, updates on my books, and articles that bring the conflict of the American Revolution to life as well as timely gardening tips from what to plant, how to plant it using organic methods, how to keep it growing and how to use it after harvest.

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Why I think I Know Enough About Gardening to Write a Book About It

broccoliSince before the beginning of the year as you know, I have been working on a number of articles on Hubpages on the subject of gardening. In the process, I have been rewriting the information and adding additional topics in creating my book Simply Vegetable Gardening different from and more informative than anything that I have online.

You may wonder why I think that I know enough about gardening to write a book about it. Well, I started gardening, specifically organic gardening over 40 years ago when I was twelve years old in my parent’s backyard. I didn’t have much money to work with, so I learned to use what I had. I learned to use what many people would consider garbage, but that the earthworms and other subterranean flora and fauna considered food. I learned that a fancy compost bin wasn’t necessary. Bury household garbage in the ground and in less than a week, where there had been garbage now contained a large earthworm population. I graduated high school, joined the military, and after getting married and having my first son, I had another backyard garden, this time instead of the sandy loam of my mother’s backyard in Northwestern Pennsylvania, I was practically starting my garden on a beach on the Virginia coast. The soil was sand, no loam. I began adding household garbage to that garden as well. Because it was a warmer climate and the soil wasn’t that good, I made the garden smaller and by the time my tour of duty was completed, my garden soil looked fantastic. Next I moved to the Missouri Ozarks where I lived on a commune for several years. There I learned even more about organic gardening. I learned that it was possible to eat what I grew in the garden. While I lived there, I learned that what many people thought was true really wasn’t. Sawdust could be used as mulch in the garden without poisoning the soil. Sawdust just needs to be aged a couple of years before using. After leaving the commune, I lived on rental properties and at every different home, I built another small, organic garden on soil that I often joked would only grow rocks. Every time I left, I had to leave the soil I had created. I learned one thing from all this, mixing my household garbage in the form of compost into my soil worked magic on any soil. It didn’t matter if the garden was already loam, sand, clay or rocks. It didn’t matter. organic soil was the answer to improving any soil type.  In a sense, I had become a Johnny (or should I say Joannie?) Appleseed of organic gardens.

A few years ago, I was in nursing school and one day I was reading an old book by J. I. Rodale from the 1950s which he had written about organic gardening. At the same time, I was studying my anatomy and physiology book and studying about the human cell. Talk about an epiphany! Reading the information in tandem as I was, I discovered that many significant similarities existed between the human cell and the actions of a compost pile. What I realized was that just because we add nutrients to the soil, does not mean that those nutrients will be accessible by the plants in the area. Thinking of the processes of the earth as chemistry, was not accurate at all. As I compared the various organisms of the compost pile and the earth in general with the human body, I realized the synergy that occurs between the various organisms. One cell in the human body had a synergistic and interdependent connection with every other cell. In addition, in the earth, as in the human body a buffering system exists which creates homeostasis. A compost pile will start out acidic, but if allowed to mellow, will neutralize if given the proper elements with which to work. The processes of the earth are biological, not chemical. It is as though, just as the human body is made up of billions of individual cells, because of countless organisms on our planet all working together, earth is truly a living breathing organism.

Though I came upon that realization on my own, I am not alone in this perception nor was I the first to think this way. In 1978, Bill Mollison and David Holmgren came up with the word permaculture which stands for “permanent culture,” as it was seen that social aspects were integral to a truly sustainable system that included humans dealing with nature on its own terms. It is certainly how I see this relationship between the earth and her inhabitants. This idea was inspired by Masanobu Fukuoka’s natural farming philosophy. During the past few years I have also been studying the principles of this philosophy.

On This Date in History as It Relates to the American Revolution

On this Date in 1765, the Britain enacted Quartering Act, required colonists to provide temporary housing to British soldiers. This was a very significant event not only in history, but also in my book Soldiers Don’t Cry, The Locket Saga Continues. When Phillip returns to Boston as a British officer in 1774, he is quartered at the home of Peter Mayford, a Boston merchant. Phillip specifically positioned himself into that home because he wanted to rekindle a friendship with a young friend that he had met when he was a young orphan boy in the American backwoods. When he is reintroduced after many years to his friend, Elizabeth Thorton, also an orphan living with her sister’s family, he is smitten by her beauty. Little does he know, Elizabeth was spying for the organizers of the uprising that the British government had assigned him to subdue.

If you haven’t yet received your copy of Vegetable Gardening in the Shade, do so now by clicking on this link and receive a subscription to my newsletter Cygnet’s News as well. In this newsletter, you will be able to keep up with events that I will be attending, updates on my books, and articles that bring the conflict of the American Revolution to life as well as timely gardening tips from what to plant, how to plant it using organic methods, how to keep it growing and how to use it after harvest.

March 7: The Soldiers Cried, “Fie Fie!”

Here is a  scene from chapter 14 of my novel Soldier’s Don’t Cry of the oration on the 5th anniversary of the Boston Massacre on March 5, 1775. The heroine and patriot spy Elizabeth Thorton is in the balcony when this event unfolds. Elizabeth’s love interest British Army officer, Captain Phillip Randolph, is sitting in the front row with the other British Army officers.

Paul Revere's rendition of the Boston Massacre of March 5, 1770. Five years later at the oration described in this story, Paul Revere was in the audience. A little over a month later, shots would be fired on Lexington Green.

Paul Revere’s rendition of the Boston Massacre of March 5, 1770. Five years later at the oration described in this story, Paul Revere was in the audience. A little over a month later, shots would be fired on Lexington Green.

     As the time for the ceremony to start grew closer, the balcony filled until every seat in the place was full and people stood in the aisles. The main floor below continued to fill with spectators, and people began to sit on the floor in the aisles between the pews.

     Elizabeth did not see Dr. Warren, who was the keynote speaker for the event, anywhere on the main floor, and she wondered how he would manage to get through the crowd up to the pulpit.

     Elizabeth heard a thud outside the church at the front of the building. Then she saw the shape of a person outside the window behind the pulpit. It was Dr. Warren. She watched as Dr. Warren lifted the window and slid through it onto the stage. Apparently, the noise she had heard outside the church was a ladder that Dr. Warren had climbed so that he could come in through the window.

     Dr. Warren stood tall. He straightened his clothing and went to stand behind the pulpit. A hush came over the boisterous crowd as its gaze fell upon the doctor. Before he even uttered a word, his appearance spoke volumes to a crowd of Americans steeped in the virtues of ancient Rome. Dr. Warren wore a toga, the principal garment of a freeborn Roman male citizen. It consisted of a single piece of material of irregular form—long, broad and flowing. It had no sleeves or armholes and covered his entire body except for his right arm. He wore the toga without any fastening device, so he had to keep his left arm crooked to support the massive drapery.

     Elizabeth contrasted the toga to the stiff, tightly tailored coat, waistcoat and breeches of the British soldiers. The toga had no artifice, no false front, no deviant concealment; the only thing that separated the wearer’s body from his audience was his bent left arm. By wearing the garment, Dr. Warren thumbed a subtle nose of contempt at all that superficial finery with which corrupt Britain disguised its designs on American liberty and dignity. Warren was letting them know that he knew why they were at the ceremony, and he chose the garment specifically to antagonize them.

     A few of the officers who sat on the steps, Gerald among them, hissed as Dr. Warren straightened his toga and confidently looked at his notes, which someone had placed on the pulpit. He cleared his throat. He began by acknowledging the officers who sat stiffly in front of him in their heavy red wool coats. Dr. Warren then acknowledged his fellow patriots. Elizabeth was pleased to see that he would not be intimidated.

     As Warren spoke, Elizabeth saw that an officer sitting in the front row, who she knew to be Captain Chapman, was holding several pistol bullets in his open palm so that Dr. Warren could see them. True to the role of a great Roman hero, Dr. Warren calmly dropped a white handkerchief upon the officer’s hand and continued his oration. Cato had not done a better job when he took on the great and powerful Caesar. Virtue, in his lexicon, would always prevail over base power. Like the celebrated Roman politician, Dr. Warren was immune to the violent threats. Elizabeth was relieved when she did not hear him in any instance refer to the massacre as bloody.

     Warren began his speech with a historical account of America’s early settlement, in order to “determine with what degree of justice the late Parliament of Great Britain has assumed the power of giving away that property which the Americans have earned by their labor.” He gave the Whig interpretation of colonial history, portraying a Manichean worldview in which “the tools of power in every age” confronted the benign power of liberty, embodied in his case by the Puritan ancestors. Those Puritans, “determined to find a place in which they might enjoy their freedom,” exercised liberty in America through a charter obtained significantly from the British monarch rather than Parliament. They “cultivated and defended” the continent “at an infinite expense of toil and blood” and thus contributed vastly to the British Empire’s greatness. Their serene prosperity, however, awakened “the madness of an avaricious minister” and brought about “the attempt of the British Parliament to raise revenue from America.” These misfortunes “brought upon the stage discord, envy, hatred and revenge, with civil war close in their rear.”

     The speech, however, did not consist merely of a historical account of New England’s settlement. Warren provided a philosophical and ideological argument in defense of the colonists’ position. “Personal freedom is the natural right of every man,” he said, as was the right to hold “what he has honestly acquired by his own labor” and to “pursue that course which is the most conducive” to happiness. Hence, “no man, or body of men, can without being guilty of flagrant injustice, claim a right to dispose of the persons or acquisitions of any other man.” Warren continued with a celebration of the ancient Romans, who through self-effacing attitudes, “eminently conduced to the greatness of that state.”

     Dr. Warren stepped back from the pulpit. A thunderous applause followed. As the applause began to die down, Dr. Warren took his a seat and Samuel Adams rose from his deacon’s seat and took his place at the pulpit.

     “That was wonderful, Dr. Warren, simply wonderful,” he began. “I know that following an oration like the one Dr. Warren just gave would be difficult for anyone; however, I would like to know who would like to volunteer to speak at next year’s commemorative oration.”

     Everyone sat looking at one another, and no hands went up.

     “Come, come now, people; surely someone would like to give the oration at next year’s anniversary of that bloody massacre.”

     As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Samuel Adams realized what he had said. His face turned pale.

     The soldiers who sat at the front of the sanctuary began to call out “Fie! Fie!”

     Elizabeth saw Gerald put his hand on the hilt of his glittering sword, lifting it from its sheath. She knew that someone had to do something quickly, or else the leaders of the Patriots would be arrested or worse.

     “Fire,” she said aloud but under her breath.

     “There’s a fire! There’s a fire!” Jonathan called out.

     Members of the audience on the balcony joined Jonathan. Not realizing where the outcry originated, they began to panic and yell “Fire!” The audience on the main floor followed suit, and there was a mad, panicked rush toward the doors and stairs. Because not everyone could fit through the opened doors at exactly the same moment, in their rush to exit the building the crowd clogged the doors. The audience in the galleries, knowing that people on the main floor would reach the exit first, crowded out the windows and swarmed down gutters like rats in the street.

     Peter and the rest of the Mayford family remained quietly in their seats and watched the chaos around them. Men were yelling, women were screaming, and babies were crying. The soldiers who had been yelling “Fie!”, but now were thinking that a fire had started on the balcony, abandoned their attempt to arrest the Patriot leaders and forced their way toward the doors to reach what they believed was safety. The selectmen eased themselves out the window and down the ladder that Dr. Warren had so conveniently provided.

     Outside, as if on cue, the comedic melodrama unfolded further when Colonel Nesbit marched his troops past the Old South Church with his drummers and fifers playing loudly. Women screaming, children crying, men yelling, drummers drumming, fifers fifing, total mayhem broke out. No one was arresting anyone. The Patriot leaders escaped without harm.

     Within a few minutes, the crowd inside the church thinned and the Mayford family rose and followed the last of the crowd out of the building through the main door. As Elizabeth followed Rachel down the balcony stairs, she thought that despite the chaotic ending, the affair went off with remarkable behavior on both sides.

     As they came through the doors out into the sunshine, Phillip met them at the door. He immediately approached Elizabeth, looking worried. Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt because she knew she was the one who had started the panic.

     “Thank God, you’re safe,” Phillip said to Elizabeth as they walked away from the building. A crowd stood looking at the old church and looking at one another, vocalizing their wonder about where the fire was.

     “I have something to say to you, young man,” said a short, fat, elderly woman with a cane who was bustling across the road to where Gerald and several other officers were standing. She did not blink an eye as she started shaking her cane at Gerald. Elizabeth did not know why the woman selected Gerald out of all the soldiers standing around, but the woman impressed her with her tenacity.

     “I would like to put a ring in your nose! This is the army’s fault, you know. You had no business interrupting our solemn occasion!”

     A younger woman came across the street and linked arms with the older woman. “Come along, Mother, we don’t need to make trouble where trouble does not need to be.”

     “I am not trying to make trouble. If anyone has tried to make trouble, it was the king’s army,” the old woman countered. The young woman led the old woman away from the church.

For Website SDC

Not Totally Fiction

Even though it is fictionalized, this is an adaptation of the actual incident on that fifth anniversary of the Boston Massacre. If you enjoyed this peek into Soldiers Don’t Cry, The Locket Saga Continues. It is available in Paperback or Kindle formats at Amazon.com.How did Elizabeth and Phillip become involved? Even more importantly, how  do they (or do they?) resolve their differences? Are they simply star-crossed lovers doomed to life apart?

As mentioned in previous posts, I am currently working on the second draft of A Coward’s Solace the third book in The Locket Saga.

In addition to the fiction, I am also working on my first nonfiction book Simply Vegetable Gardening. For a sneak peek at the type of material in that book check out my hubs on hubpages. This week I added two gardening hubs. (Links below)

Turnips, Parsnips and Rutabagas in the Garden

Grow your own Chinese Cabbage for Stir-Frying

March 5, 1770-Remembering the Boston Massacre

The Boston Massacre

One of the most pivotal events leading up to the American Revolution was The Boston Massacre. The British authorities had put numerous laws into effect in which the American colonists felt as though they were being treated unfairly. Numerous acts of rebellious activities were performed against the royal governors of the colonies, so troops were mobilized to the Americas to control the rabble rowsers. It was under this backdrop that the drama that became known in America as “The Boston Massacre” unfolded. Check out this reenactment.

Bostonians commemorated The Boston Massacre until the end of the Revolutionary War with public Orations. One particularly tense oration occurred on the five year anniversary of The Boston Massacre in 1775 which is commemorated in a scene in my book Soldiers Don’t Cry. I will share that scene in this blog on Friday.  Soldier’s Don’t Cry is available in Kindle or paperback.