A good thing she hadn’t seen the mystery officer fiddling with her figurine a moment ago. Anna could just imagine the uproar that would have caused.
Anna continued to the kitchen to find Elias. The sooner she told him what she’d overheard, the better. In the meantime, she hoped Mrs. Pembroke didn’t make a nuisance of herself and upset Captain Whitby and his guests.
Nathaniel left Captain Whitby’s latest message at the proper house and collected the expected reply. He rode away with the air of a man with nowhere urgent to be. He found it a useful sort of air, as people saw what they expected to see. Most expected a courier to be either bored out of his mind or tired. Nathaniel learned to appear as both.
He saw two soldiers up ahead and slumped a little more in the saddle. As he passed them at the corner, he gave them an easy nod.
“Reed,” one called and gave a little wave.
“Afternoon,” Nathaniel drawled without slowing.
As usual, neither man paid him any more mind. That, too, was useful.
He rode on. The day had grown warmer, though the sky remained gray. Rain might come by evening, and if it did, it would make the roads a muddy mess and give every horse in town a reason to object to its employment. Nathaniel couldn’t blame the beasts. He’d objected to his employment more than once, though saying so aloud could put him at the end of a rope. A man who played both sides, even in appearance only, learned to keep his objections to himself.
Nathaniel guided his horse down a narrow lane behind the cooper’s shop and continued until he reached a shed stacked with empty barrels. There was an old cart nearby, missing a wheel. Anyone passing would think nothing of it. Broken wheels and barrel staves were ordinary sights in a working town.
As was Mr. Caleb Avery, the cooper who owned the shed. The man stood just inside the shed, working a piece of wood with slow, steady strokes. An older man, he was still broad through the shoulders and gray only at the temples. His hands were roughened by years of work. He also had excellent hearing and didn’t look up when Nathaniel dismounted. “You’re late,” Caleb said.
Nathaniel looped the reins around a post with a sigh. “I’m exactly as late as Whitby made me.”
Caleb glanced his way. “That man has a talent for making a nuisance of himself.”
Nathaniel snickered. “He considers it leadership.”
Caleb huffed a laugh. “Most men in red coats do.” He set the plane aside and looked at him. “You got word?”
Nathaniel glanced toward the lane before stepping inside the shed. “Mrs. Tilden heard mention of a ship. A naval officer was at the Pembroke house yesterday evening. Two wagons came through from Brookhaven,” he said in a low voice. “Crates were unloaded, but no one knows where they’re bound.”
Caleb’s eyes sharpened. “Brookhaven?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “So she said.”
Caleb scratched his head. “That’s not nothing.”
“No,” Nathaniel agreed.
Caleb moved to the shed’s opening and looked out. “Anything from the house today?” He glanced over his shoulder at Nathaniel with a hopeful look.
Nathaniel took the folded paper Captain Whitby had given him from his coat and held it up. It was sealed and meant for a Loyalist merchant who owed the captain more favors than money. Nathaniel already memorized the direction and mark.
He waved the paper at Caleb. “Nothing I could read without being hanged for it.”
Caleb heaved a sigh. “Then don’t read it.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Nathaniel fingered the paper.
Caleb glanced over one shoulder again. “You’ve been doing this too long.”
Nathaniel laughed. “More than two years now. I guess I’m past being tempted because it’s happened so often.”
“And because it can get you killed,” Caleb added and faced him.
Nathaniel leaned against a post. “No, being careless is what will get me killed. Temptation just keeps the work interesting.”
A tiny smile tugged at Caleb’s mouth, but his humor didn’t last. “So we have a ship, wagons, crates, and a naval officer.” He nodded to himself. “That’s enough to move along.”
“It’s also enough to ask questions,” Nathaniel said, “but not enough to answer them. Shouldn’t we get more?”
