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Chapter Thirty-Six
The moment the stool was yanked away, James could see Joseph’s back stiffen.
He kept his volume around a fragile whisper. “You must go.”
As if the quiet declaration pulled him by degrees, Joseph nodded and turned his head. “Thank you.”
There were grief and gratitude in his expression too deep for anything else, though James could see more words in his eyes. If only he could have done more for this courageous pair. “Take Miss Young away immediately. Stop at Eaton Hill to change horses and head directly to Sandwich.”
Joseph glanced right, then turned away again, the scene in the faraway yard likely too terrible for him to witness further. “I will.” He gripped the reins and sat straighter, ready to ride the back way to the house where Miss Young waited. “We are indebted to you, Major.”
“I shall hope to see—” A movement behind him made James’s spine rigid. “Go!”
Without a second glance, Joseph kicked his horse and raced into the cover of morning’s inky shadows.
James sat motionless, his mare nickering and sidestepping. She could feel his angst. Tapping his heels against Ginny’s flank, he led her onto the road, trying to keep his mind from straying to the past, but it would not obey. He ground his teeth. If Joseph had been caught, he too would have been hanged, and the mere thought made James’s muscles cramp. Joseph Wythe was brave to a fault. As was Miss Young. Pray to God they would remain unseen. They must make it to Sandwich. For the boy, aye. But also for—
“Delinquent in your post again?”
Fate would not allow him a moment’s peace. James breathed out a smooth, quiet breath before answering the man who had been the thorn in his side from the day they’d met. “You should be happy, Lieutenant Greene. Your informant has been found. And killed.”
Also atop his mount, Greene reined in his horse beside James’s, looking toward the small crowd of soldiers who worked busily in the yard to disassemble the hastily made gallows. “So it would seem. Though I am not convinced.”
No wonder this man and Stockton’s son had been such keen companions. They were so much alike. “You believe an innocent man has been killed, is that it?”
“Nay, he was guilty of working for the enemy, that much is clear, but I do not believe the informant Major Pitman is searching for was that man.”
James caged his disgust behind his ribs with a long inhale. “What now then? Will you continue your search? I understood Major Stockton had banished you to Sandwich.”
“Oh, he had.” The laugh Greene let out was harsh and low. He trained his eyes on James as if the directive he prepared to issue would cut him from head to foot. “But I have just returned from issuing a report of this evenings events to Major Pitman and it seems he is so impressed with my efforts, that he has requested that I be transferred to his regiment so that I might be put solely in charge of discovering this elusive traitor.” The triumphant grin curled up his face. “I shall soon have full authorization to use any and all tactics to sniff out the one who will feel the tight end of a rope.”
So much pride. But pride’s companion was often cowardice. “I heard tell you were the informant.”
Greene’s expression coiled. “By whom?”
James eased his posture. “By several.”
“’Tis a lie.”
Shrugging, James tilted his head in the direction of the gallows. “None of this business with the Youngs happened until you made your appearance at the foundry.”
“I was the one who found out Willis this very evening! Do not tell me—”
“I am telling you nothing except I wonder if Major Pitman has requested your transfer because he trusts you or because he believes you culpable.” He paused, watching Greene’s expression evolve from indignant to hateful. “Keeping you closer to him, he can watch you with greater scrutiny.”
Greene’s jaw shifted back and forth as he chewed on the tack James had tossed him. “I will find this informant, and when I do, I will discover who it was that first slandered my name and I will be sure they regret it.”
That worn-out threat Greene was so quick to throw at the first rustle in the grass made James almost chuckle. “Good luck then.” He almost added a sarcastic remark to crown his enjoyment but swallowed it back before it could feel the morning’s biting air.
With a glare that Greene no doubt wished would stab, he clicked his tongue and finished his advance to the yard.
James stared, grinding his teeth as he calculated the work he must now do. Pitman was no fool. So why wish a man like Greene to oversee such an operation? In truth, instead of murmur over such a development, James should give thanks for it. The man was as dense as a dung pile. If he didn’t know who the informant was by now, he never would.
He’d been meticulous, careful, even cautious to an extreme. But if he didn’t begin to take even more care, James’s work for the Patriots would be discovered, and that was something he could never risk.
A grunt from Ginny lurched James’s thoughts into place, and he tugged her the opposite direction. The note in his coat pocket clawed for freedom. And he knew just the place to leave it.
* * *
