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The front door burst wide, and they jumped. Hannah whirled to the door to see Stockton and another man stride in.
She looked back to Joseph. His face was drawn, his stance leaning toward her as if he were so full of anxiety he was ready to leap from his own skin.
She could read the question in his eyes. Stockton asked you to be his what?
“Good afternoon, Mr. Young, Miss Young.”
Hannah nodded to Joseph with a promise in her grin that she would tell him later, then turned toward the parlor. Peering to the others from her position in the kitchen, she curtsied. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”
Bowing, Joseph responded in kind, his frustrations apparently restrained, however temporary. “Major.”
Stockton gestured to the man with him. “This is my attendant, Private Reece. He’ll be helping me and Greene occasionally.”
“Good to meet you, Reece.” Hannah nodded to the soldier, who looked more like a boy just fresh from home. “Your arrival is perfectly timed, Major.” She stepped forward. “Do forgive my boldness, but I’ve a basin of hot water and am in the middle of laundering. If you should have anything—”
“How thoughtful of you, Miss Young. I do indeed.” All politeness left his tone when he turned to Reece and gestured to his quarters in the room behind him. “Retrieve my shirt and cloak from the end of the bed and bring them to Miss Young.”
“Aye, sir.”
The youth hurried to his task as Joseph stepped forward. “Sir, I too am glad you are here.” He made his way to the parlor, gun in hand. “I am afraid I must go into town.”
Stockton’s dark brow jammed together. “For what purpose?”
“I fear I miscalculated a few of our supplies. I must purchase more coal and a few other items if we are to make real progress.”
Stockton’s small eyes narrowed, only shedding that sheen of disapproval when they flitted toward Hannah. “I suppose temporary suspensions are to be expected.”
Joseph nodded. “A slight impediment is all. Once I have what I need, I shall return to work.”
Stockton turned his back to the fire. “Of course.”
Reece emerged, the articles bunched in his arms. He hurried to the kitchen, depositing the clothes on the table beside where Hannah stood.
“Very good of you, Reece.”
His rosy cheeks lifted in response, as if such gratitude were rarely shown him, and his pale eyes brightened. “Aye, of course, miss.”
“I shall be off then.” From in front of the parlor door, Joseph’s resounding voice echoed through the room.
He flung a look to Hannah that sailed across the small distance to coat her with a kind of reassurance, a kind of courage that seemed to all but lift her feet from the floor.
“I will return before supper.”
With that, he was out the door and gone. Hannah tucked away the gift he’d secreted her in the clearness of his eyes and gathered the next items to be washed as both Stockton and Reece took their places in front of the parlor fire, discussing wagons, road conditions, and the petty arguments of soldiers that needed remedying. Nothing useful. Positions of regulars, plans of action, munition stores—those were the particulars she needed.
Hannah lifted the cloak and unfolded it, when a paper slipped from a hidden pocket on the inside of the garment. Slapping a hand to her thigh, she caught the paper before it landed to the ground. Pulse raging, she stood still, listening to the rush of blood in her ears and the undisturbed conversation behind her. Cautiously she craned her neck to glance back. The discussion continued undisturbed. Blessed heaven. Her heart thumped so hard behind her ribs she could feel its savage drumming through her stays. The paper singed her fingertips. She had only seconds…
She straightened and hung the cloak over her arm. Flipping the paper back to front, she looked for a seal. Nothing, not even the remnants of one.
Nerves charged like the sky before a storm, Hannah unfolded the paper close to her chest and read.
Four hundred troops arriving to Boston by week’s end. Supplies on board. Forty cannon and two thousand rounds. Docking at Duxbury to get remaining munitions then marching north. Majors Pitman and Stockton will prepare for engagement—
“Miss Young?”
A hard grip of panic seized her throat as the sound of footfalls approached from behind. Clumsily refolding the note, Hannah whirled around and dropped it behind her. Smiling, she locked her knees to keep them from buckling. “Aye, sir?”
The rushing blood in her ears crashed loud and hard, like storming waves on the shore.
