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His kind and caring nature showed in all he did. Eliza took note of everything, though she warned herself not to. He walked ahead of them, searching out the safest and easiest path and offered a strong hand to them when crossing a bumpy patch of earth. Every so often he peered over his broad shoulder to inquire about their welfare. No doubt he was just as tired and hungry as they, but he didn’t show it. The smile in his dark blue eyes remained vibrant with every passing mile. He was the kind of man that—
Eliza quickly blinked away her thoughts. She didn’t even know the man. Such notions must never be entertained. Not when Samuel had proposed. He deserved an honest answer—one she wasn’t ready to give.
Another immeasurable amount of time slipped by as they plodded across the leaf-matted ground before Thomas stopped. “Let’s rest here a while.”
Splendid gold and red maple leaves decorated the floor of a small clearing in the trees. Brave blades of grass struggled to poke their pointed heads from underneath the colorful blanket. The sunrise dusted orange light like a celestial cloak to warm them. Both girls found a soft pillow of ground devoid of mud on which to sit.
Heaven! Never had it felt so marvelous to stop moving. Eliza closed her eyes and rested her head on the tree behind her, trying to ignore the throbbing at the backs of her feet.
“Don’t get too comfortable.”
Eliza’s eyes shot open at the closeness of Thomas’s soothing voice. He crouched next to her, resting his arm on his knee.
With Thomas so close Eliza could plainly see dark rugged whiskers beginning to appear on his face. Her heart stopped.
He tipped his chin toward the sky. “Now that it’s getting light, I’m going to go back about half a mile. I need to make sure the soldiers haven’t discovered our trail—if they have, we’ll need to put fire in our feet.”
“You don’t think they are following us, do you? Really?”
“I’d like to think they aren’t, but Redcoats don’t give up easily, so we have to be stronger and smarter than they are. Which isn’t hard to do, thankfully.” He chuckled and looked around, but didn’t get up. “You seem to be holding up well, I’m impressed.” His eyes smiled, then grew serious. “How are you doing?”
She swallowed. His sincerity and honest inquiry made her feel warm and safe—protected. Taking a quick glance at where Kitty rested a few feet away, she sighed, grateful her sister had managed to fall asleep in so little time.
“I’m well, thank you. How far do you suppose we’ve traveled?”
He rubbed the cleft in his chin. “About ten miles.”
“Ten miles,” Eliza repeated. Fifty more to go. Her feet would never make it.
“Will you be all right here while I’m gone?”
No. Eliza pulled the cloak around her neck. “Of course.”
As he moved, ready to get up, the words in Eliza’s heart found their way to her mouth before she could stop them. “Mr. Watson, I . . . I understand time is of the essence, but I must know. How well did you know my father?”
With a gentle smile he sat on the ground a polite distance from her, picked up an auburn leaf, and played with it in his fingers. “I knew him quite well. Very well, in fact.” He paused and motioned toward Kitty. “We can talk for a moment. Let her rest.”
Eliza sat up straighter. “How did you meet him?”
He pulled the dying leaf apart at the veins. “I joined the group three years ago. Your father had already been part of them for some time.”
“You mean the Sons of Liberty?”
He tipped his head toward her and she could see the sparkle behind his eyes when he answered. “That’s right.”
Eliza moved her gaze down. She reached into her skirt pocket and retrieved the note she had kept with her since the moment she’d read it in the field. Fingering it in her hands, she tried to keep her voice smooth. “My father always said it was more dangerous to be a Tory. He attended to men who’d been tarred and feathered for staying loyal to the Crown, he had meetings with Hutchinson himself—he couldn’t believe people would be capable of going against King George.” She stopped and clutched her stomach. “And now to know that he was a member of such a group, a group that would violate property, cause riots, and hurt any human life . . . I don’t understand it.”
She looked at him, studying his face as her mind raced to put together the words that jumbled in her brain and she squeezed the paper until her fingernails bit into her palm. “I’ve seen your Liberty Tree. I’ve seen the soldiers hanging in effigy. I’ve seen the signs and posters promoting your cause. Father was a good man. He taught us to love and serve our king. How could he align himself with a group that does such horrific things?” Her voice quivered, as did her chin.
Thomas looked down at the leaf in his hands, then back up at her. “Do you believe that every member of His Majesty’s Army is upstanding and seeks for the good in all he does?”
She lowered her eyes, smoothing her thumb over the paper.
“Well, it is the same with the members of our growing group. I certainly could never tar and feather a man, and neither would your father. But there are many who hold the same political beliefs—they strive for liberty and freedom—yet cannot bridle their passions and let their anger get the best of them.”
Eliza shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ll never be able to come to a full knowledge of why Father did what he did. Why he believed what he believed.”
Thomas pointed at the note as if he knew exactly what it contained, and somehow that knowledge alone massaged away the tension in her heart. “God will help you find the knowledge you are searching for.” He tossed aside the remains of the sheered leaf. “Your father always acted with wisdom and responsibility. I’m sure he would never h
