In the days since Captain Morgan’s “recruitment” at Allason’s Shenandoah Store, I have been far busier than any time I recall since my mother died. When I returned home on Monday evening, I immediately began preparing for what little I knew of my duties as Adjutant for a Rifle Company and the possibility of an imminent departure for parts unknown.

Early Tuesday morning I sought out Pieter and Lotte for their help. Though they are indentured to my father, not to me, his youngest son, they were most agreeable to aiding my preparations.

While I sharpened my ax and hunting knife, Pieter fired up the forge next to our stable. Then, using the cast iron crucible, ladle, molds, and sprue-cutters Father designed, we poured and finished 250 perfect .43 caliber lead bullets for my .45 caliber Henry rifle.

I spent the balance of the daylight hours carefully wrapping each bullet, a beeswax coated patch, and a carefully measured amount of powder into waxed paper, forming cartridges for my rifle—something commonplace for a person carrying a smoothbore musket—but very rare for a Rifleman.1 I placed twenty-five each in leather cartridge boxes and wrapped them all in oilcloth to keep them dry.

On Wednesday, while Pieter went to assist several neighbors with a barn-raising, Lotte helped me prepare clothing and equipment. She washed and dried four linsey-woolsey hunting shirts and three pairs of linen leggin’s while I searched through several large chests in our house and the hayloft over the stable. It was a reminder of how my mother never gave or threw away anything that might be useful in the future.

Father often described our mother as “a wise and frugal Proverbs 31 wife.” My quest for clothing and equipment proved he was correct. My search yielded two pairs of good heavy shoes and three pairs of moccasins made from sheepskin with wool inside and a half dozen pairs of wool stockings.

I also discovered the heavy hemp linen cloak my dear departed brother Joshua purchased in Boston during his first student winter at Harvard. Lotte insisted on carefully washing the garment and coating it with a beeswax compound she promised would make it waterproof. When it was dry, I wrapped it around my sextant and circumferentor in their leather cases and stuffed it all into my canvas backpack.

On Thursday afternoon, Pieter and I rode out to Father’s tobacco, corn, and forage fields just north of Winchester. We agreed he would make a first-cut of hay in early June in hopes for a second cut in September and in between he would tend the tobacco and harvest the corn in late autumn.