Crows’ calls echoed from the bare branches of the maple and black oak trees in the hedgerows. Brown leaves, curled and crisp, cart-wheeled over the glazed grass. Patches of lingering snow clustered around clumped weeds and the withered blackberry bushes beside the old wooden barn. Inside the barn, Anna Clark gently squeezed a cow's teat, squirting fresh warm milk into the steaming pail in the cold. She gently massaged the teats in a practiced manner, while thinking about the dress she was sewing for her sister Elizabeth's Christmas present. The cow’s warm breath formed frosty nebula in the cold, damp air. Anna was grateful for the warmth of the cow’s body despite its musty odor. "Papa, someone's coming!" her sister Elizabeth cried from the hen yard, and then ran to the house. Anna looked out through the partially open barn door, but could see no one. She left her milking stool and went to the door. Naturally shy, she stayed behind the barn door, peering outside. A group of horsemen in dark blue and black uniforms galloped toward the house.
