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“She could not be stayed, and I—”

“Enough!” Veins bulging in his neck, Stockton pointed to Greene. “Search them.”

“No!” Hannah stumbled forward with arms outstretched. “Please, Major, I beg of you.”

Something that resembled compassion rippled through Stockton’s eyes but died at the shore of his pride.

The look he threw Joseph kicked like a boot to the face. “Get up.” Again he turned to Greene. “Search them all.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

All strength fled, and Hannah’s legs buckled.

“No!” Higley gripped her arms to hold her steady. “Major, please.”

The note she’d handed Joseph would be found in his pocket, and then they would both hang. Their hopes for love and happiness destroyed by a man who should have loved and cherished. Instead, had forsaken.

Stockton flicked his head toward her. “We’ve no time to wait. Lieutenant, get it done.”

“Aye, sir.” He stepped toward her. “I always knew you were not one to trust. And here at last I have the chance to prove it.”

“Stop!” Joseph’s cry stalled Greene’s steps and turned all heads to him.

But ’twas Joseph’s eyes that were upon her, and the look in them chilled her blood. She shook her head, silently pleading for him not to do what she read in his face that he would. If he sacrificed himself, ’twould be grief that stole her life in place of a noose.

On his knees, Joseph leaned into his words, resolve casing his features. “She is innocent—if you will ch

eck anyone, check me.”

The tiny muscles under Stockton’s eye began their familiar tick. He swung his glance from Joseph to Hannah and back again. “I do believe you are right. ’Tis you who I must question first.”

Lord, this cannot be! Her limbs nearly lost their ability to hold, and she gripped harder to Higley. Hot tears burned her eyes before searing down her cheeks.

Stockton flicked his wrist to Joseph, and Greene marched to him. Yanking Joseph to his feet, Greene’s gruff hands reached quick and hard into every pocket.

Hannah raised her eyes to Philo, who stood motionless, arms heavy at his sides as he watched. Why? Why? A cry built within her, guttural and black. Why had he never forgiven? She had wished for nothing else, but he had not been willing to offer anything more than begrudging civility. Did his hate of her reach so deep that he would place her own life and the life of the man she loved in such peril? Did he not know they would be killed? Did he not care?

Clinging madly to her sensibilities, Hannah focused her vision on Joseph, who looked at her as now Stockton came to inspect, then quickly stepped back, his mouth a hard line.

He said nothing, gesturing for Greene to search Philo. Cold relief washed through her. From across the room, Joseph’s eyes blinked, communicating the same bafflement she could hardly assemble into thought. Had the note dropped from his pocket? How could they not find it?

“Raise your arms, preacher. You’re next.” Greene shoved Philo’s arm high and dove his hand into his pocket. Suddenly he stilled and looked up, gripping Philo’s absent expression with a victorious smile. “What have we here?”

Slowly, he raised the folded note and circled on his heel toward Stockton. “It seems we may both have been misled, Major.”

Hannah’s mouth hinged open as Philo turned his face toward her. Her thinking ceased, impeded by the shock that shot from the sea of her fears. There was something in her father’s eyes…something she hadn’t seen since she was a child. ’Twas beseeching and sorrowful, yet sweet and entreating. An unheard melody seemed to groan out of him, his spirit speaking with hers in mournful, euphonious strains, as if to say, I love you.

Greene stomped forward, shoving the paper at Stockton’s chest before he looked to Hannah, snapping her bleeding heart away from a pain she could not understand. “This does not absolve you of involvement, Miss Young.” His glare squeezed. “You shall get what’s coming to you.”

* * *

“They are innocent!” Philo reached out hard and fast. “I confess.”

The young soldier twisted back, mouth firm. “You confess?”

“Aye.” Philo swallowed before speaking the rest, praying Providence would fill his mind with anything that would convince the crimson-faced soldiers he spoke the truth. “’Twas all my doing.”

“You?” Stockton stepped forward, arms rigid at his sides.

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