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A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Samuel grumbled.
“How are you, sir?” Donaldson came into the room they shared and closed the door behind him.
Samuel shook his head and turned away.
“If you truly love this woman, as you profess to, you will want the best for her. And from what I saw she didn’t look like she was under any kind of duress. I suggest you let it go—”
Samuel launched from his place on the thin mattress and grabbed Donaldson around the neck. “Let it go?!” Samuel pushed him onto the bed and gripped harder as Donaldson choked for air. “Never! Eliza is mine!”
After another shove, he let go. Donaldson gasped for air and rubbed at his throat, coughing.
Samuel’s chest heaved as he stared at his subordinate. “We will find a way to get her back. She loves me. That man has forced himself upon her, I know it!”
His vision darkened and his arms shook as his need for Eliza pulsed through him with the strength of the entire British Army.
Donaldson pushed off the bed, still massaging his neck. “You’re on your own. I will help you no longer.”
Samuel jerked back, his nostrils flaring as his hot breath seethed through his nose. “So be it,” he said, opening the door. “You’ve been no help to me anyway. Get out.”
Donaldson turned as he stepped into the hall. “You’re digging your own grave, Martin.”
Samuel leaned forward until their faces were only inches away. “When I bring her back, you will accompany me to Boston whether you like it or not. If you choose not to, I will personally see to your professional demise. I know how you need every cent for your pitiful mother and sisters. I suggest you obey orders.”
Samuel shoved him into the hall and slammed the door, then pounded it with the side of his fist.
He shook his head. I can do this on my own. Pacing the length of the tiny room, he used every parcel of shrewd thinking left within his brain.
Time was precious. He rehearsed possible scenarios through the long night and mapped their location with precise detail in his mind. There were no guards at the small house, at least none that he had seen. No reason for him to have any trouble removing Eliza and her sister.
Yet, his thoughts stalled at every possible course. What if they were no longer there? What if they’d suspected his coming and left?
He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, brushing away the thought. No. The house looked settled. They were there to stay.
Why could he not think of what to do? How to save her? How difficult could it possibly be?
After the long night ended, and as the first fingers of sun crested over the rooftops an idea, flawless and simple rose in his mind as pure and bright as the sunrise. For the first time since seeing Eliza again, his muscles relaxed and renewed strength charged through his veins. She would be safe and in his arms within the hour.
Heedless of his soldiering duties, he crept out of the boarding house in silence and paced down the street, taking the back way to Watson’s hideout, just as the traitor and Eliza had done the previous night.
A wild excitement pushed him over the frozen ground. His shoulders and arms buzzed with anticipation.
Do not worry, Eliza. Our nightmare is almost over.
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The morning’s sunrise sprinkled bits of pink and orange on the waiting horizon. Eliza noted how the evening’s snowfall blanketed the outside world, the glowering clouds of last night having floated away as they slept. And with their welcome departure, a parcel of her own oppressive load vanished forever into the sorrowful past.
She smiled at the beauty of God’s daily handiwork and splashed a handful of cold water onto her face, then patted it dry with her apron. She peered past her reflection in the north window that overlooked the small barn, getting lost in blissful visions of the future. There were no animals in the building now, but soon—once they were free from hiding—Eliza and Thomas would settle this small farm and make it their home, filling the barn with animals and their home with the fruit of their love.
She rested her head against the window-pane, a smile tugging at her mouth. Her usual distress over important matters—such as marriage—never surfaced. The decision to marry Thomas came as natural as breathing. Where Samuel had wanted to make all her decisions for her—as easy as that would have been—Thomas allowed, even prompted her to think for herself. Thomas valued her thoughts and opinions. He valued her.
At the memory of Kitty’s rebuttal, her heart pinched.
She exhaled a misty breath into the cold glass. If only Kitty would speak to her—like she used to. Kitty’s eyes still glistened with love, but since last night something deep started to take root within her, and Eliza feared there was nothing she could do to make amends.
Now she could see why her father had insisted that Kitty never know about his involvement—and that she was young, if not in age, in understanding. Somehow he had known Kitty would react with anger and keep her heart closed to the truth.
