"The Patriot Wore Petticoats"
By Marnie L. Pehrson
Based on a true story of the American Revolutionary War heroine, Laodicea Langston

Chapter 1  

“So we meet at five tomorrow morning at the North ford of the Enoree?” asked the short, stout man, his pug nose crinkling as the sun streamed through the trees and into his eyes.

“Yes and bring the Kilmer brothers with you. I’ll see that the rest of the Scouts are there. We’re going to eradicate these rebels amongst us if it’s the last thing I do. We’ll attack Little Eden at dawn,” replied Bill Cunningham, with a glint in his eye. The tall, attractive leader of the Bloody Scouts would normally be the type of man that made a girl’s heart skip a beat, but his exuding ruthlessness repulsed any woman with a shred of discernment.

Laodicea Langston clung with her back to the opposite side of a large oak no more than four feet from the two men. “Dicey,” as her friends and family called her, withheld a gasp and raised her hands to her mouth. “James and his men are at Little Eden !” she thought to herself. Panic sent her heart pounding within her chest. She’d promised her father no more spying – no more carrying messages she overheard to the Patriots. But it was hard for Dicey. In this war, anyone could be a Patriot or a Loyalist. Because women were rarely given notice – and especially young women like 15-year-old Dicey, she often stumbled upon interesting conversations. Well, stumbling would be a bit understated. The first conversation Dicey overheard was purely by accident; but soon she found that if she kept her eyes and ears open and maneuvered herself discreetly at parties and community events, she often heard important information that would help the Patriot cause.

While Dicey clung to the side of the tree waiting for the men to clear the area, her mind shot back to the conversation with her father only a month before.

“Dicey, I understand what you’re trying to do. James and Solomon are part of the Patriot forces and it’s understandable that you’re worried about them. I’m concerned about them too. But your brothers are fighting for our liberty and we have to trust that the good Lord will take care of them. You can’t go eavesdropping all over town and carrying messages to your brothers.”

“But Papa, surely you have said yourself that God helps those who help themselves. Dare we stand idly by and do nothing, expecting our liberties to be protected while we know that our fighting men are in danger?”

A sympathetic expression flickered across Solomon Langston’s green eyes. After all, he had taught his sons and daughters well. He had conscientiously indoctrinated his children that “Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty” and “faith without works is dead.” Could he now stand before his daughter instructing her to relinquish the beliefs their family espoused? A look of resolve crossed the tall man’s brow as he smoothed his hair back with his right hand and his left stroked his neatly trimmed gray beard.

He took in a deep breath and in a kind but resolute lowered voice explained, “Now Dicey, you’re absolutely right, but in this case my hands are tied.”

“Whatever do you mean your hands are tied?”

“While out in the orchard this morning, two men with scarf-masked faces grabbed me from behind, held a knife to my throat and informed me that the Tories were aware of your spying and carrying messages to the Patriot forces. They demanded that I either take control of my ‘feisty meddlesome daughter’ or I would be held personally responsible. They even threatened to inform the Bloody Scouts of your activities so they could take care of the situation. And you know what that means, Dicey. When the Bloody Scouts take care of a situation, you’re as good as dead and you’ll be blessed by the Almighty if your family doesn’t join you!”

Dicey threw her hands to her mouth in astonishment and gasped, “The Bloody Scouts! Papa, I had no idea! I’m so sorry for putting you and the family in danger!”

Solomon continued, “I know you meant no harm, Dicey. I know you were just trying to protect your brothers and help the cause, but this has to stop for the safety of us all.”

Dicey’s mind darted to the tales she’d heard about the barbaric deeds of Bill Cunningham and his Bloody Scouts. She could hear the deep, animated voice of her father’s friend, Judge J. B. O’Neal., as he sat in her family’s home spinning yarns about Bill Cunningham and the Bloody Scouts. The family sat musing together one evening about why these men were so bloodthirsty. “How can they be so barbaric?” her mother had pondered aloud.

The judge settled into his seat, took a deep breath and began his explanation, “Rumor has it that in 1775, Cunningham enlisted as a private soldier in the service of the State of South Carolina , in a company commanded by Captain John Caldwell in Colonel Thomson's Regiment of Rangers. He served with credit; so much so, that Captain Caldwell planned to promote him over the head of his own brother, William Caldwell, who belonged to the same company. Some trivial offense prevented Cunningham’s promotion, and sent him before a court-martial. They sentenced him to be whipped. He suffered the degrading punishment and with his blood boiling with revenge, he deserted the flag of his country and fled to Florida . While there, William Ritchie kicked Cunningham’s aged father out of his home. Somehow Cunningham heard about his father’s plight and swore that he would seek the blood of his father's oppressor. He shouldered his rifle, and mostly on foot, traversed the country between St. Augustine and Laurens District; and in Ritchie's own house, in the presence of his family Cunningham shot the man dead.”

Dicey’s and Henry’s eyes widened but remained riveted on Judge O’Neal’s every word as he continued, “Upon the first taste of blood, Cunningham developed a lust for it like a lion’s unquenchable thirst for prey. Since then, he has been the most merciless of the Tory blood-hounds, scouring the country, hunting to the death all those who fight for freedom against British tyranny. He started with those with whom he had served and were responsible in one way or another for his court-martial. For Cunningham, revenge is a sweet elixir that nourishes his wicked soul.”

Dicey jerked from her memories back to reality by the sound of breaking twigs and rustling bushes. Startling and quickly turning her head to the right, she saw a fawn rummaging for berries. She exhaled a sigh of relief, reached down into the pocket of her apron and pulled out her grandfather Richard Bennett’s pocket watch. Grandfather Bennett died when Dicey was only three but she remembered sitting on his knee as a little child playing with Grandpa’s pocket watch. She had been so fascinated with it that her mother decided that Dicey should have it – to help her remember those few memories that remained of her grandfather. Dicey’s mother, Sarah Bennett Langston, presented it to her on her twelfth birthday. Since that time, Dicey kept it with her always.

“I’m nearly an hour late! It’s already half past two ! Now if I can just make some excuse to leave Liz ’s party early. I simply must determine a way to warn James.”  But for now, her best friend was waiting for her.  

~*~  

Elizabeth Williamson, catching a rare moment to herself, stood near the fireplace in the spacious parlor of the Williamson plantation house and surveyed the guests at the party held in her honor, “Where is that Dicey?” she muttered to herself. “She’s always running off when I need her.” Elizabeth, Dicey’s childhood friend, was a tall, beautiful young woman with long, naturally curly blonde hair that fell in ringlets to her waist. Her pale blue eyes and long eyelashes strikingly accented her porcelain features. This was an important day for Elizabeth and she needed her friend beside her. Elizabeth ’s father, Richard Williamson, was a likeable fellow but an avid Loyalist who was determined to find a suitable Loyalist husband for his lovely daughter. “None of that rebel rabble for my Elizabeth ” he insisted.

Elizabeth ’s sixteenth birthday party was the talk of the town. Every eligible bachelor and every unmarried young woman in the surrounding area of Laurens District , South Carolina attended. Her father conscientiously saw to it that Patriot males were not in attendance, but that didn’t limit the choices much. Laurens District was primarily Loyalist territory. What few Patriot men there were in the district were off fighting for either the Continentals or the militia. Dicey’s own father had fought with them until his leg was severely wounded – leaving him to walk the remainder of his life with a cane.

Mr. Williamson wasn’t so worried about the young women who were invited. While he felt Dicey to be entirely too outspoken in her Patriot views, he saw her as most men perceived women of the day – keepers of the hearth and home, but having no brains for politics or the real problems that men folk discussed. No, Dicey was no threat to Richard Williamson’s mind.

Elizabeth turned abruptly as she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Dicey! Where on earth have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago!”

“Uh… well, I was unavoidably detained.”

“Off gallivanting through the forest, I see,” Elizabeth deduced, noting a twig in Dicey’s chestnut hair, and her mud-caked shoes from the recent torrential rains. Elizabeth picked the twig out of Dicey’s French braids and smoothed a stray strand of her friend’s hair back where it belonged. “I swear, Dicey Langston! You have the opportunity to meet every eligible bachelor in Laurens District and you’re off playing with rabbits in the woods.”

“Liz, I assumed it wasteful to arrive on time since every young man’s eyes would be fixed only upon you. I thought I’d give you an hour to select your victim so that I might choose from your leftovers.” Dicey winked at her friend.

“You know I haven’t a bit of judgment where men are concerned, Dicey. I’m not selecting a man until you give your approval” laughed Elizabeth .

At that moment Dicey pointed her eyes toward Elizabeth ’s right, directing her attention toward a young man who strode up beside them. Elizabeth turned to face the gray-blue eyes of 18-year-old Samuel Holton. He took Elizabeth ’s hand, bowed his sandy-blonde head and kissed her fingers gently.

“Miss Elizabeth, I’m honored to be invited to your party this fine spring afternoon. I’m Samuel Holton and this is my – uh – friend Mr. Matthew Love.”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” Elizabeth responded, pretending that she didn’t recognize him. She had secretly hoped that Samuel Holton would accept her father’s invitation to attend her party and could barely contain the elation she felt as he actually stood before her kissing her hand. Elizabeth turned to Dicey, “This is my friend Miss Laodicea Langston.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Langston,” Samuel Holton who was stocky fellow just Elizabeth ’s height, greeted Dicey as he took her delicately small hand and then released it.

“Langston?” queried Matthew with one raised eyebrow. He continued to glare down into Dicey’s striking chocolate brown eyes that were accentuated by long, thick lashes. He quickly forced himself to sweep away an expression of irritation and took her hand, kissed it and with forced politeness quipped, “Nice to meet you, Miss Langston.”

At his touch a cold shiver ran up Dicey’s spine. That look in his eye – what was it she wondered? While he appeared an ordinary looking fellow of medium build, the expression in his eyes exuded a mixture of what could only be described as contempt and hunger. This man was no good. She felt it instantly.

“I’m sorry, but I must leave early this afternoon. May I call on you for a stroll tomorrow morning, Miss Williamson? Your father has already given his consent,” asked Samuel with a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

Elizabeth ’s eyes darted to Dicey who gave a subtle nod. “Why of course, Mr. Holton, that would be lovely.”

“Until we meet again, Miss Langston,” stared Matthew Love as he tipped his head toward Dicey and then Elizabeth .

As the two young men walked out of earshot, Dicey whispered to Elizabeth , “That man makes me physically ill.”

“Who? Not Mr. Holton, I hope?”

“No, that Matthew Love. There’s something evil about him. I can feel it.”

“Really? He does seem a bit intense, but… What do you think of Mr. Holton?” Elizabeth held her breath hoping he met with Dicey’s approval. Dicey had a rare gift for sizing up anyone. She could sense a person’s true intentions and Elizabeth had come to rely on her friend’s uncanny ability.

“Oh, he seems like a nice enough fellow. But he evidently is a poor judge of character or he wouldn’t be associating with such rabble.”

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. At least Dicey had no disquieting feelings about Mr. Holton. Elizabeth felt simultaneously disappointed that he had exited her party so soon, but elated at the prospect of being the object of his sole attention the following morning.

Dicey watched her friend as suitor after suitor approached her, asked her to dance or sat talking with her. Occasionally a young man would stride up to Dicey to introduce himself and ask her to dance, but nothing to compare with the attention showered on Elizabeth . Rather than be envious, Dicey was genuinely happy for her friend because courting, socializing, and the finer things of life were important to Elizabeth . But Dicey wasn’t impressed or concerned with all of that. She enjoyed nature, riding through the woods on Gabriel, hunting with her brothers, and listening to her father and brothers discuss the war and the fight for freedom. No, Dicey didn’t care about the frivolous things of life. She was too contemplative for that, but she loved that Elizabeth could make her forget about the perils that threatened her family. If everyone were as kind, loving and light-hearted as dear Liz , there would be no war, nor tyrants, Dicey thought to herself.

As Dicey stood, gazing admiringly at her friend who could be so light-hearted and beautiful when the world around her wreaked with hostility, Dicey remained completely oblivious to her own down-to-earth beauty that exuded from the confidant integrity of her soul and permeated out through her deep brown eyes. Yes, Elizabeth was beautiful, prim and proper, but there was a genuine inner beauty and grace about Dicey that would capture the heart of some young man who could look past the occasional wind-blown hair of Dicey Langston, the bold and reckless rider and expert shot.

Dicey could only take about an hour and a half of socializing. She approached Elizabeth , rubbing her temples with both hands, “ Elizabeth , I’ve got a bit of a headache. I’m going to head home now.”

“So soon?”

“I’m sorry, I just really need to lie down.”

“Would you like to go upstairs and rest in my room?”

“No thank you, I just want to go home to my own bed. I feel like sleeping on through the night.”

“I’m sorry you’re feeling poorly, Dicey.” Elizabeth gave her friend a quick hug, “Go home and get some rest.”

“Stop by the house tomorrow afternoon and let me know how you enjoy your outing with Mr. Holton” Dicey winked at her friend.

“I will!”

 ~*~

 On her way home, Dicey determined that she would take a short nap, sneak out after everyone had retired for the evening and ride out to warn James. As she entered the farmhouse, the sounds and smells of dinnertime filled her senses – the delicious combination of fried chicken, gravy and biscuits. Sarah Bennett Langston had mastered the culinary arts and she’d been passing those skills on to Dicey. It was Dicey’s responsibility to make breakfast for the family bright and early each morning. She wondered whether she could reach Little Eden and arrive home in time to cook breakfast.

As she opened her pocket watch noting the time as now half past four , she knew she’d do well to catch an hour of sleep before dinner. Her mother called from the kitchen, “Dicey, is that you? How was the party?”

“Fine mother – perfect as always. Liz would stand for nothing less. Even mother nature ceased her torrential rains to offer up a perfect day for Liz ’s birthday,” Dicey answered with a wearied smile.

“Dicey, you look troubled. What’s wrong?” her mother queried as she emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on the white apron tied about her waist.

“Oh, nothing, Mother. I just have a bit of a headache. May I lie down for an hour or so and have you wake me for dinner?”

“Certainly, dear, you go ahead and lie down and I’ll send Henry up to wake you when the food is ready,” her mother comfortingly put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and directed her up the stairs toward her bedroom.

Sleep remained elusive for Dicey. Too much weighed on her mind - too much planning to be done. What would be the fastest route to Little Eden? How would she get Gabriel from the barn and ride away without anyone noticing? Or perhaps she should venture on foot? What would she do if her father or mother noticed her leaving?

Dicey breathed deeply. “I’ve got to relax. I have to get a little sleep or I won’t make it through the night…Please Father in heaven, help me get some rest and help me arrive at Little Eden to warn James and the settlers before the Bloody Scouts do!” she began to pray in her mind as she lay sideways on her bed with her knees tucked up to her chest.

After a short time, sleep came and went quickly and she awoke to a knock at her door. “Dicey, Mama says it’s time for you to get up and come to dinner.” Her twelve-year-old brother Henry stood at the door. Dicey could hear the giggles of little Celin, Bennett and Amy as they rubbed against her bedroom door.

“How many of you does mother think it takes to wake me?” she laughed.

“Oh, I thought I might need reinforcements to drag you from your bed. Celin, Bennett and Amy are prepared to tickle you while I hold you down,” chuckled Henry.

“Indeed! You think you can hold me down Henry Langston?” Dicey challenged as she rose to her feet, crossed the room and opened the door. As the door swung open Celin, Bennett and Amy gathered around her legs and began tickling Dicey’s waist.

“Why you’re just a scrawny little thing. Doesn’t look like they need me to hold you down!” observed Henry, who towered a full foot taller than his older sister.

“Come along you three, I’m hungry and I feel much better now that I’ve had a little rest. Let’s go eat.” Dicey pulled Amy up into her arms and shifted the white-haired, rosy-cheeked child onto her hips while she grasped four-year-old Bennett’s hand and led him downstairs for dinner. Henry took seven-year-old Celin by the hand and followed them.

 ~*~

 After dinner, the little ones ran off to play, leaving Solomon and Sarah Langston with their two older children who were still at home – Dicey and Henry. Their older brothers, James and Solomon, were off fighting in the war, and naturally as the conversation usually did, it turned to the events of the day.

Henry Langston cleared his throat and began, “Little David Tinsley told me that his pa, Major Dunlap, and John Cummings were the only survivors of a Bloody Scout raid yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh my!” exclaimed Dicey as she quickly glanced into her father’s eyes which returned a somber gaze.

“It seems that they started at Commander John Caldwell’s home. They shot him dead right there in his garden and charged their horses in and out of his garden in fiendish sport! Then they torched the home leaving poor Mrs. Caldwell there to cry over her husband’s body!”

“When will this madness end!” exclaimed Sarah Langston, her deep brown eyes moistening with tears.

“That isn’t all of it Mama. They say that William Caldwell came to Colonel Hayes in his blacksmith shop, pointed to the smoke rising from his brother’s home, and warned Hayes to flee.  Hayes only replied that Cunningham had too much sense to come there. William Caldwell replied, ‘I will not stay here to be butchered’ and then he mounted his horse and fled at full speed.

Everyone’s eyes strained intently upon dusty-blond-headed Henry as he continued, “As William Caldwell rode out one end of the field, he saw Cunningham’s Scouts come in the other. Hayes and his men were taken totally by surprise. They were driven into the house and John Tinsley struck a full blow with his sword at Colonel Hayes as he entered the door. Shots were fired and one of Cunningham’s men was killed. One of Hayes’ men died in the house from a ball shot between the logs. Then the Scouts lit the house afire.”

“Hayes and his men surrendered and Cunningham pulled aside Hayes and Major Daniel Williams – you know Major Williams don’t you Papa? His father Colonel Williams fell at Kings Mountain .”

Solomon Langston nodded his head in recognition as grave concern puckered his brow.

“Anyway, Cunningham took Major Williams and Colonel Hayes and prepared to hang them when Major Williams’ younger brother Joseph ran up to Cunningham. I guess he thought he could have his brother spared since he’d known Cunningham his whole life. He pled, ‘Captain Cunningham, how shall I go home and tell my mother that you have hanged brother Daniel?’”

“Cunningham instantly swore that Joseph wouldn’t have that horrible duty to perform and strung him up right alongside the other two men! Can you believe that Papa? Can you believe he’d hang a boy he’d known his whole life?” Henry turned incredulously toward his father.

“They’re a murderous lot, Henry. They are like the good book says, ‘past feeling.’ I think they don’t care an ounce about this war. They just want an excuse to murder people.”

“I say they’re possessed by demons” interjected Sarah Langston.

“Evil, plain and simple – just evil!” Dicey gasped.

“You know what is even more appalling? The pole broke from the weight of the three men so Cunningham took his sword and literally hewed them to pieces! While wiping his sword, he saw that one of his men had – in cutting a man to pieces – broken his sword. Cunningham gaily handed him his own, commenting that his sword wouldn’t break!”

The women gasped and Solomon shook his head in disgust.

“Like I said, James Tinsley, Major William Dunlap and John Cummins were the only survivors of Hayes’ party. They say their lives were spared by one of Cunningham’s Scouts at the peril of his own life.

“Who was it, Henry? Who let them go?” asked Dicey.

“I don’t know. David Tinsley didn’t say. I thought perhaps it could have been their kinsman John Tinsley, who is one of the Bloody Scouts, but he said it wasn’t him. ‘Twas another man he did not know.”

“This is just so horrible!” exclaimed Sarah looking at Dicey, “We must do something for poor Mrs. Caldwell! Where is she staying, Henry, do you know?”

“I hear she’s staying with her sister,” answered Henry.

“Dicey, you and I will go there tomorrow for a visit. And we’ll pay our respects to poor Mrs. Williams! Can you imagine losing two of your sons the very same day! I know it won’t help much, but we’ll do what we can to comfort the poor women.” Sarah Langston turned to her husband, “This is entirely unsettling. I’m feeling ill just thinking about it. Let’s retire early tonight, try to get our minds clear of the matter and get some sleep.”

Dicey wondered to herself who in their right mind could relax and sleep after hearing such a horrific tale. But she felt relieved when her father agreed with her mother and they began preparing the children for bed. Now more than ever, she knew she must warn James so that he and his men could alert the settlers at Little Eden. Her family retiring early for the evening would give her more time to reach the settlement.

Read more about the American heroine, Dicey Langston, at www.DiceyLangston.com

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