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“Ha!” Stockton strode forward, his face scrunched with hatred. “What man goes about after dark for a secretive rendezvous with another man?” He placed his hand on the back of Willis’s chair. “You haven’t any wife. Perhaps…perhaps you are that kind of man.”
Willis jutted his chin. “I had a wife. You know that!”
“Your word means nothing now, Plains.” Stockton released his hold but still strangled the man with his eyes. “Everything you have said, everything you have done, is a lie. You are a Patriot and a spy.” He turned to Pitman, voice cutting through the walls. “He deserves the noose, and now!”
Pitman’s jaw moved back and forth, his own gaze unwavering from the man in front of him as he spoke to Joseph. “Mr. Young, come forward.”
Joseph flung a quick glance to Higley, sure at any moment he would reveal his true name. Yet there seemed to be confidence in the man’s eyes, almost encouragement. Hurling aside the rest of his blithering fears, Joseph stepped past the soldier in front of him and stood beside Willis.
Arms firm at his sides, he stood tall, gaze direct but humble, waiting to be spoken to before he opened his mouth. Lord, fill my mind with what thou would have me say.
Pitman sighed and stepped back, allowing Stockton to take his place in the forefront.
Boots clomping against the wood floor, Stockton took his place in front of Joseph, his sour breath searing past Joseph’s nose. “Tell me again about your encounter yesterday with Mr. Plains.”
“My cousin and I arrived just before noon.” He met Stockton’s pointed look with one of his own before glancing past Stockton’s shoulder to Pitman. “He greeted us warmly and invited us in.”
He stopped, the still, piercing voice of Providence trickling through his mind. The thought was quick and clear, and Joseph didn’t allow himself even a second to question it before he gave it voice. “We spoke only of the work, and he showed us the stash of weapons and lead beneath the floorboards of his parlor. He said my barrels were satisfactory, and we went on our way.”
Stockton’s brow folded as he turned to question the soldier nearest the door. “Was there such a secretive stash when you searched the place?”
The man shook his head. “No, sir. We saw nothing.”
Whirling back around, Stockton hurled a bone-crushing look to Willis, then Joseph. “Explain.”
Joseph’s heart crashed again and again into his ribs, though he restrained his voice, maintaining its calm. “Did your man pull back the rug? A hatch is underneath the rug in the center of the room, in front of the fireplace.” He paused, examining Stockton’s facial response before he continued. “Willis claimed the Patriots often suspect him, and he feared the stash being taken. Thus, he built a cellar for this purpose.”
Stockton tossed a questioning look to the soldier behind Joseph. “Well? You said you checked the entire house. I assume you found such a stash.”
The man cleared his throat. “Uh…we did not look there, sir.”
“You did not?” Pretended kindness infused Stockton’s sound, heavy mockery in his understanding expression. “Well, ’tis difficult, I suppose, for one so daft to neglect such simple orders.” In a breath the act was gone and madness gripped his voice and stance. “Get out, Private Graves. I will deal with you later.”
The soldier turned and stepped out the door. Stockton neared Joseph, his face only inches away. “Why would a man hide guns in his floor if not to evade our notice? Is he really so afraid of a few farmers? I don’t believe it.”
Muscles solid, Joseph eased his fingers that wished to curl, his volume that wished to rise. “If I may speak freely, sir.”
With a hard, hot breath, Stockton circled round, responding in favor with the quick raising and lowering of his hand.
“As I stated, and is true, Plains is often questioned by those in town.” The answer came to him one word at a time, and whether it be true or fabricated, he didn’t know and could not care, only that it would be believed. “Storing such munitions in plain sight would be foolhardy and would invite far too many questions. You’ve asked him to store for you—what else is he to do? If the Patriots knew of the cache, they of course would seize it. If your soldiers knew of it, is it not likely they would reveal what they know in town where some active Patriot might overhear them?” Joseph’s chest pumped, his breath heavy and quick. “You have taken him in wrongfully.”
Stockton flicked his head around, brow so hard he could have cracked the wall behind him. “You would speak to me in such a way?”
Alive with rage, Joseph’s boldness swerved past the fear that should have been his safety. “I am interested in baring the truth, not in how you might interpret it.”
Pivoting back to Pitman, Stockton kept his arms crossed. “What say you?”
Expressionless as always, Pitman didn’t move. His eyes alone were blinking, his mind clearly sifting through the information, studying it over and under, backward and front.
“Will you show us this stash?” Pitman’s sudden question was directed to Joseph.
He nodded, stomach making rotations, turning slowly into solid stone. “Aye, sir.” He could only pray to heaven that the guns were still there and had not somehow been moved without his knowledge. “I am ready anytime.”
“Good.” Pitman flicked a wrist to the soldier beside the door, then to the other in front of Higley. “You two, ready our mounts.”
They nodded and strode out, leaving only the five of them in the too-warm room.
Stockton neared Joseph, resting a hand on his shoulder, his conversation friendly and familiar, a dark contrast to his declaration. “If we find you have lied to us…” He patted Joseph on the shoulder with a smile. “I fear I shall have some terrible news to relate to yo
