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Once in the covering of the wood, he was forced to slow his pace, which only escalated his pulse. Time was fleeting, and its value inestimable. This note must make it to Washington.
Joseph growled and yanked the horse sideways only seconds before they barreled into a hidden tree stump. Grinding his teeth, he opened his heart toward heaven. Only Providence could help him now.
He stopped in the wood, glancing around at the eerie quiet that hovered in the midnight black. Where were the Patriots? Had they already fled? Who had the muskets?
Devil’s spit. Where was Nathaniel?
Lungs heaving, muscles flexed and full of blood, Joseph dismounted. Spying through the wood, he squinted, cursing the lack of moon. He could make out nothing but shadowed forms in the yard in front of the barn. There were only a handful of remaining soldiers, it would seem. Though more were on their way, that was certain.
A shadowed figure rose ten yards to the left. From the lack of coat and crouched way he stood, ’twas clear the man was a Patriot, ready to dash for safety. Throwing a whisper as far as he could, Joseph called out to him. “Halt!”
But the man ran, and Joseph gave chase. He took his chance and spoke the code word Nathaniel had told him. “Fox!”
The man stopped hard, but his posture was ready to start again. Like a frightened animal, the Patriot’s eyes were round, his breath loud and quick.
Joseph took him by the arm. “What’s happened here?” The man didn’t answer, so Joseph gripped harder. “Tell me, man. Where are the guns? Did the Patriots get them safely away?”
He shook his head. “Have you not seen?”
“Tell me!”
“We got them away.” His body was trembling, and ’twas then Joseph noticed the slick of blood trickling down the side of his face. “But not before—”
“Where are Captain Donaldson and Dr. Smith?”
Joseph released his hold, and the man took a few steps backward, preparing once more to run. “They made it away, but not before four of us were shot. A few taken.” He spun and gasped as if he’d heard something. “Get to safety while you can.”
Turning, he dashed through the snow-crusted wood. Dear God. ’Twas worse than he’d thought. Four shot? How many taken?
Something firm and hard struck him in the back, and he stumbled forward.
“Here’s another one, Lieutenant!”
Joseph circled back and cocked his arm for impact, but resisted by some unseen hand. The eyes of the young Redcoat in front of him appeared ready to bulge from his head.
“Mr. Young?”
Joseph lowered his arm. “Reece?”
The faint light reflected in the boy’s questioning stare. “What…what are you—”
“What is it Reece?”
Joseph gripped the boy at the shoulders, impaling him with a dozen sharp petitions. His voice was a raspy whisper. “Let me go, Reece. I beg of you.”
The call from the yard came again. “Reece? Who goes there?”
“Uh…” Reece shrank back, face pinched and voice wavering. “Uh…I’ve just…”
“Well…this is a pleasant surprise, Mr. Young.”
Joseph’s spine jerked straight at the familiar dark sound, and he dropped his hands from Reece.
Twisting back, it took Herculean strength not to plow his fists across the man’s face. “Greene.”
So Higley had been right.
Greene tilted sideways to look past Joseph, slapping Reece with a glare that would no doubt leave a mark. “When I ask you a question, I expect an immediate answer.”
