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“State your business. I am busy as you see.”
Paul turned his attentions once more on the man at the table whose eyes were hard and brimming with suspicion.
Though it had not been offered, Paul took the opposite seat. “Are you Warren Fox?”
The man leaned back against his chair, glare hard and scrutinizing.
After another look around Paul’s gaze landed on the printer once more and his muscles jolted. The man still stared. Not only that, he had moved closer. The temperature of the room rose and a string of profanities thumped through Paul’s mind.
Clearing his throat, Paul spoke while his gaze lingered on the printer. “I am looking for a man named Warren Fox.” Now, he faced the one who sat opposite. “According to the tale I have heard, this fellow is searching for his daughter that was taken by a man in the wood.”
The tight expression on the man’s weathered face softened a degree, but still he did not speak. Paul went on. “I believe that the man I seek could well be the same who took his daughter.”
Rubbing his hand over his mouth, the man squinted. “Who are you searching for?”
So this was Warren then? The man had not said, but Paul continued as if he were. “Henry Donaldson—tall, dark blonde hair, strong build. He deserted the army and betrayed his country by helping the colonists in their quest for freedom.” The last words tasted like gall. “I plan to find him and bring him to justice.”
Blinking, the man’s stare sharpened. “Who are you?”
Paul shot a look to the patriot table and breathed out when he saw the print shop owner no longer looked at him. Even still, risks could not be taken. Should the patriots know he was a soldier…
He leaned forward, careful his volume didn’t carry beyond the table. “I am Paul Stockton. ’Tis my duty to find this man. And I will.”
“A similarity in physical appearance means nothing. What makes you think we search for the same man?”
Paul leaned forward. “Then you are Warren Fox.”
Folding his arms around his chest, the man lowered his chin answering only after two slow breaths. “I am.”
Confidence seized. “Do you remember anything else about the man that might identify him? Did he have a wound on his arm?”
The man’s crossed arms released, his face rounding in shock. “He did.”
Paul rested back against his chair, struggling to subdue the childish jubilance with trained solemnity. “Then it is confirmed. Shall we not combine our efforts in search of this man and your daughter?”
The man leaned forward, resting one forearm on the table, his strained tone choking the air between them. “How can I be sure you speak the truth? That you will not take her as he has done? How can I be assured you are not simply looking for a reward to line your pocketbook?”
“Reward?” Paul shook his head. “You will know I am in earnest when we combine our efforts and I speak not once of material gain.” He strained urgency through his voice. “I must find this man. I am close, I can feel it, but I believe to find him we must work together.”
“Hmm…” That familiar suspicion returned, deepening the shadows around Warren’s eyes. A deep command rumbled across the table when he answered. “If we are to work together, you will do as I say.”
Irritating, but Paul had suspected as much. He nodded. “When shall we begin?”
“Immediately.”
Paul glanced out the window as the rain plinked against the glass, begging for entrance. “Now?”
“You wish to begin later?”
“Of course not.”
“Then let us away.”
“Excellent.” Paul rose, but the man reached out, gripping his arm with iron-like fingers. “If you betray our agreement, if you harm my daughter in any way, I will have my vengeance upon you. Make no mistake.”
A tremor toyed with Paul’s spine. This old man was no fool. Then again, Paul was no peasant farmer. He straightened to pull the anxieties from his back. Steeped in the cloak of sincerity he wore so well, Paul dipped his head. “Never fear. I give you my word.”
~~~
