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Kitty began to weep. Her terrified eyes gorged him. “What’s happened, Thomas? Where is she?” she questioned, both hands now covering her cheeks. “Why would she leave us? How could she have left without us knowing?”
Thomas’s blood stalled. The rally. But why would she do it? He’d warned her of the dangers and yet she had ignored him.
“Kitty, listen to me. I must go after your sister. I know where she’s gone.” He walked toward the trembling young woman and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You must promise me not to leave this house no matter what happens. I will return soon and I’ll have Eliza with me.”
Kitty looked at him, her face as white as the flakes outside.
“Do you promise?” he said, praying she’d not do anything as rash as her sister.
Kitty only nodded, the lines in her forehead deepening.
He forced an encouraging smile. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Where is she Thomas?”
He stopped in the doorway, silent for a moment, before looking over his shoulder. “She went to the rally.”
Kitty’s hands flew to her cheeks. “The rally?”
“I’ll bring her back, Kitty. I will.”
Thomas flew down the stairs.
Greatcoat. Scarf. Gloves. Hat. Boots.
Once ready for the elements, Thomas bolted out the door. He covered his face with the scratchy woolen scarf, attempting to mask his appearance more than shield himself from the cold. Truth be told, he felt nothing of the snow and freezing air.
The task before him gathered like a hostile storm. Where was she? Had she been caught?
Oh, Eliza, what have you done?
Once in town, the sheer magnitude of the crowd overwhelmed him. How could he ever find her amongst such a multitude? Dear Lord, open my eyes.
He scanned the rustling current for any females as the group marched toward the courthouse. There were only a few women, and none of them Eliza.
Then a terrifying thought struck his mind. She’s dressed like a man! How would he ever find her now?
Suddenly, at the opposite side of the crowd a small fray ensued between two soldiers and a large man holding a flag. Thomas rose on his toes to see above the animated men.
Four more Tory’s came forward, taunting the small group in front of them, causing tensions to rise. A few more patriots rushed to the aid of the victim.
Thomas’ blood heated as a powerful urgency racked him. Memories of the Boston Massacre flashed in his mind and he prayed that God would help him find Eliza. Now.
A small figure wearing a familiar hat and coat streaked across his vision and his lungs froze. He tried to trace the hat amongst the group as the person pushed their way past the tumultuous crowd.
Could it be . . . ?
He struggled to keep his gaze upon the bobbing individual that weaved and dodged through the group.
Blast!
He lost track. His eyes trailed along the unfamiliar faces and through the rising flags and torches, desperate to locate the person he’d seen.
God be thanked, there it was again. This time the figure moved dangerously close to the isolated feud. At that moment one of the soldiers shoved the man in front of him causing the other men behind him to rock and stumble about. One large man bumped into the figure Thomas had been watching, causing the small person to topple. After righting again, the person looked up, locking eyes with Thomas.
His muscles flexed, his breath dammed in his throat.
Eliza.
