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glancing back at him. “
Colonel
Rall isn’t going anywhere. Besides, just look at that weather out there—and it will only be worse when set upon the road. Remember, it’s eighteen miles to Trenton!”
    Once more von Donop cast his glance toward his comely hostess. “Don’t you agree, my dear?”
    “I could not agree more,” she answered. “Would you care for some brandy?”
    The name of the woman who entertained von Donop that Christmas night is not really known. Nor are her reasons for remaining in Mount Holly when all other women had fled. But among the locals there is a story still told: that her name was Betsy Ross—and that not all patriots shouldered muskets on that Christmas night.
    December 25–26, 1776
    Delaware River
    Great, hard slabs of jagged ice, as big and thick as coffins, slammed with incredible force into the sides of George Washington’s Durham boat.
    There was no place to sit in these immense, canoe-like vessels. So Washington and all the other men in the black boat with bright yellow trim wrestled to steady themselves, fearing they would be tossed into thedark, rushing, ice-choked waters. Four sailors, snug as they could hope to be in their short seaman’s coats and tight woolen caps, struggled to steer Washington’s boat, to keep it from being swept downstream. Slush and ice lapped over the craft’s low sides and onto their feet, making a dangerous and miserable voyage still more wretched. Hard, cold winds stung everyone’s faces.
    Washington peered through the darkness and struggled vainly to catch sight of solid Jersey ground. It was nearly impossible. A bright moon had arisen early that evening, but great black clouds had then rolled in, causing the December sky and everything under it to disappear into cold, inky blackness.
    And as Washington struggled to look forward, words began to roll through his mind. They were words that he’d recited from his earliest childhood, but they had never possessed greater meaning than they now did on this faithful night, the birthday of the One who had first offered these sacred words to the whole world.
    “… and deliver us from evil,” George Washington’s silent, but fervent, prayer concluded. “Amen.”
    Morning of December 26, 1776
    Western bank of the Delaware River
    Opposite Beatty’s Ferry
    On the Pennsylvania side of the Trenton ferry, eight miles downriver from George Washington and McConkey’s Ferry, General James Ewing, a tough Scotch-Irishman hailing from the Pennsylvania frontier, stood not in a boat, but on the snow-covered shore, swearing mightily. He was near Trenton Falls, and the rushing mass of water hurtling upon the jagged rocks below it had created a massive ice jam nearly five feet deep. Pockets of water flowed only sporadically, and those pockets, where they existed, were just thirty to forty feet wide.
    It was the worst of circumstances. The Delaware was too frozen for boats to sail, yet not frozen enough for Ewing’s seven hundred soldiers to trudge across.
    Washington had ordered Ewing’s troops to join him as he battled the Hessians at Trenton. But there was no way to do that. His boats and menwere being held up by a barrier more powerful than what any Britisher or Hessian might have constructed. He had tried as hard as possible, given it everything he could—yet he had failed.
    If George Washington were to secure victory, it would be without General James Ewing’s reinforcements.
    Early morning, December 26, 1776
    Eastern Bank of the Delaware River
    Opposite McConkey’s Ferry
    Campfires blazed along the Jersey side of the Delaware.
    Despite Henry Knox’s bellowing commands and tireless enthusiasm, the crossing had proved far more harrowing than anyone had imagined. The tide had been swifter, the ice thicker, the wind colder. Horses bucked and resisted boarding the ferryboats that had been designated for their transport. They wanted no part of this voyage.
    Perhaps they were smarter than their