Spirit of the Revolution by Debbie Peterson

that thunderous ‘war dance’ you conjured while we did the subduing surely helped our cause. You couldn’t see the ground for all the dust you stirred. I’ve not seen smoke any thicker.” Alexander chortled as the memory of that event set off another round of laughter and elbow jabs.
    “But, not long after that incident, Howe’s infantry attacked and a pretty serious battle commenced,” William said. “They forced our army back and subsequently, Lord Stirling ordered a retreat to Middlebrook. Nevertheless, because of Lord Stirling’s efforts that day, General Howe feared the strength of our forces. He didn’t want to engage us and thus backed off.”
    “Nonetheless, the old coot boasted a victory,” Alex reminded them. “His posturing didn’t matter a whit to any of us though. How could we lose a battle that Howe retreated from, as well?”
    “Still,” Jedediah said, “along with some of Washington’s guard, we fought them off long enough to escape with all thirty-eight prisoners still in tow. We made it back to Morgan’s field headquarters without a single loss of life or limb on either side. That’s quite a feat, all things considered.”
    “That it is, and I think we need mention here, we made our escape straight through the swamp,” Sam said, as his eyes twinkled with mirth. “Mathias, our brave, stalwart leader, led us through the thickest, muddiest swamp I’ve ever had the displeasure of traipsing through, and why? Not because we needed to, or even because the route proved the safest. No, we trudged through it because Mathias McGregor believed it downright entertaining to get the pretty uniforms of Washington’s elite guard, a little bit dirty.”
    “A little bit dirty, you say?” Alexander let loose a snort. “As I remember it, they marched into camp covered in mud from head to foot and that’s the truth of it, Jolena. No one could differentiate us from them once we entered the camp at Middlebrook.”
    “They were none the worse for wear,” Mathias said, coming to his own defense. “Besides, Colonel Morgan got a good laugh out of it, did he not?”
    “That he did, Mathias,” Sam replied, bobbing his head. “That he did. I don’t think I ever remember a time before or since, when the man laughed so long or so hard. I’m certain you caused him a moment of cheer on an otherwise trying day.”
    Jo joined in the laughter as her imagination played the entire scenario out in her mind. She pictured Jedediah playing Indian, while relishing and embellishing the role. Her mind envisioned Mathias, without an outward trace of humor giving away his intentions, leading Washington’s elite through the mud. Most certainly, his sportive actions gave him just as much pleasure as it did Morgan. Still, since they were in a talkative mood, she had a few remaining questions.
    “I have a few more questions if you don’t mind.” Jo picked up the volume on Major John Clark and held it up for their inspection. She had devoured this library book after she exhausted all of the ghostly Web sites Carolyn e-mailed. Many of those sites presented some fascinating theories on all the whys and wherefores of spiritual manifestation. Yet, nothing concerning ghostly abilities fed her imagination quite the way this book did when she imagined her boys taking part.
    “Mathias, you told me when we first met that Colonel Morgan assigned you all to work under Major John Clark. However, you failed to mention George Washington assigned him to gather intelligence about the British. This means you all participated in the very dangerous activity of spying for and on behalf of your country, right?”
    Before Mathias could answer, her recently installed doorbell chimed out a random melody. Dakota jumped to his feet and barked while he raced down the stairs to confront the intruders. Jo abandoned the book to her desk and followed. Her ghostly companions remained a single step behind. Sam swore under his breath as they vacated