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Merciful heavens. Had she been that obvious? Eliza hoped to deflect the accusations. “Well, I will say he was a kind, generous man, and true, he was very charming, but that’s the end of it. Now, let us get some sleep before the dawn comes.”
“I suppose you’re right. Goodnight.”
Eliza rolled on her back and wrapped her arms around her middle under the warmth of the blanket. Now, if only the handsome press owner’s face would disappear from her mind, she might be able to sleep.
Thomas couldn’t keep still. He tapped his foot and drummed his fingers on the envelope in his hand like a timorous rain. Then he looked up and down the alley for the twentieth time.
The same place, the same cold darkness, but a new feeling of unease and anxious anticipation danced around him.
Where was that wretched Martin? He should have been here and gone by now.
His heart dropped to his feet in the next second when two Redcoats started toward him. He could tell from their size and shape that neither of them were Martin.
“You Watson?” A tall, dark-haired Redcoat approached, his posture rigid.
“Who are you? Where’s Martin?”
“I’m Lieutenant Donaldson. Martin’s busy. He sent me to get the envelope, so hand it over and we’ll be done with it.”
Thomas stiffened. This man meant business. For the first time Thomas wished Martin were there instead of these two imbeciles. At least he knew better how to deal with him.
This plan cannot fail, Lord. Please be with me.
Thomas handed Donaldson the envelope, hoping he would take it and be on his way. But the soldier ripped into it immediately, huffing as he read the names.
“Excellent. Come with us.” The lieutenant motioned for Thomas to follow them.
Thomas froze. “What?”
Donaldson talked to his companion as though Thomas were made of cobblestone.
“Martin’s orders are to bring these people in immediately. We will go right now. Martin said to take not only the men, but their families as well. These patriots need to be taught what will happen to all those who oppose the Crown.”
Thomas choked on his breath as utter shock flooded his limbs. This couldn’t be happening!
Lord! What am I to do now?
“As for you, Watson,” the tall one continued, “do not think Martin isn’t mindful of your involvement. He desires you to be the first to show the people of Boston what comes to anyone who opposes the king.”
Thomas flexed his muscles and clenched his fists. Not a chance.
The smaller soldier grabbed for Thomas’s arm, but Thomas swung with years of harbored rage, knocking him to the ground. The man hit his head on the corner of the building and slumped over, knocked-out. Donaldson lunged, but Thomas dodged left and stuck him from behind, landing the point of his elbow on the nape of the man’s neck. The soldier didn’t go down, but yelled and yanked at Thomas’s coat. Thomas slugged him in the ribs, sending him toppling toward the street, his sword clanking as it hit the ground.
Thomas glanced toward the entrance of the alley, but there wasn’t a soul around to come to his aid. Probably better to fight this alone. He swung again, this time punching Donaldson square in the nose. The man flew backward, his head hitting the stone street with a loud crack.
While the two soldiers lay motionless, Thomas reached over Donaldson and searched his coat for the piece of paper. He found it and stood, ready to make a quick escape.
Without warning the soldier revived and grabbed at the paper, ripping it in two as he yelled something unintelligible. Thomas stumbled backward. Donaldson shoved the piece of paper deep into his coat and attempted to get up. He grabbed his head and continued yelling as he fumbled for his pistol.
Every nerve in Thomas’s body screamed. He lunged at the soldier, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed his head against the cobblestone once more, rendering him unconscious.
Voices and shouts erupted from across the street. A group of men ran toward him.
With no time to recover the other part of the paper, Thomas fled into the blackness, away from his pursuers. Away from his past.
A lone horse stood tethered by an abandoned building as if God had placed it there just for him. Thomas didn’t even think of the consequences of stealing a horse. Without a doubt the punishment for striking a soldier would be much worse indeed, and he needed a horse—desperately. Thomas mounted and rode for miles, out of town and over the small neck of land that connected Boston to the mainland. His lungs burned and his muscles cramped, but he couldn’t stop. Thank the Lord the tide was out or his escape would have been impossible. He glanced up at the moonlit sky, then dared a look behind him. The city of Boston receded as he neared the farms and estates on the other side of the bay.
When he reached a safe distance with no one on his trail, he removed the ripped portion of the paper from his pocket and held it toward the moonlight, holding tight to the rein
