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Caroline followed after her. “Hannah, please. ’Tis unwise to—”
“All I have done these pa
st days is unwise.” The bitter truth assailed her as she secured her saddle and mounted. “Pray for me.”
Her cousin’s solemn expression voiced so much in a single look. Worry, hope, love. She reached for Hannah’s hand and squeezed, her throat bobbing, as if she restrained the emotions that etched her face, before pulling back and smacking the horse on the rump with a loud “yaw.”
Hannah gripped the reins, darting down the back road toward home, praying as she had never prayed before.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joseph rocked back and forth with Anvil’s leisurely pace, straining not to reveal how the plague of anxiety stung him. He wanted to race home, find if Hannah had yet returned or was still in Sandwich. But his companion seemed none too concerned about their lack of speed.
Glancing to Higley, who rode beside him, Joseph pondered the man who’d been his companion since before the sun had fully risen. Joseph released a heavy breath. It seemed more like ten days than ten hours since they’d left Eaton Hill. Since then they’d been to Plymouth and Duxbury, at last to return when the sun was bidding a reluctant farewell, the pale sky deepening to a striking indigo.
Weary to the bone, he shifted in his saddle, the creak of the leather the only sound other than the soft clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the frozen ground. Thank the Lord they were now only a few miles from home.
“’Tis good Major Stockton chose to stay behind, clean up the rest of the mess.” Higley’s tone was easy, relaxed. “To own the truth, I can scarce believe the outcome.”
Joseph turned his head toward Higley. The sudden and surprising confession from one so silent begged for more. “Aye?”
Higley’s shoulder’s dropped, and he sighed, rubbing the scar on his ear as if it still pained him. “I was certain we would witness a hanging.”
“As was I.” He spied the man, allowing his deeper thoughts to feel the air. “Major Pitman showed more leniency than I might have imagined.”
“Aye. He’s desperate to find the informant, but I have a feeling the man will never be found.”
“So this man is…sharing information with the Patriots?”
Head bowed, Higley looked at the reins in his hand, then back up. “We know little. Except that certain of our information has in fact ended up in the hands of Washington. Exactly what or how much is unclear, but they know our movements.” He looked to Joseph. “’Tis owed to you that Willis is still alive. Spying is not taken lightly.”
Joseph’s chest went tight. “If the guns had not been there, I am sure both Willis and I would have felt the bitter end of a rope.”
The look Higley threw was sharp as steel. “If the guns had not been there, nor your story so convincing, I fear you would have suffered more than a sudden drop.”
Scowling at the thought, Joseph stared forward to the vacant road, trying to lure his worries away from the one person they seemed ever eager to encompass. He wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened to Hannah if indeed he’d been taken…tortured…killed. Would they have done the same to her as well?
Higley rested both hands on the front of his saddle, his expression and statement comfortable. “You are brave to do what you do.”
Did he really mean what Joseph thought he did? He couldn’t. But Higley’s words were so pointed it seemed there was something hidden behind their casual sound. Joseph’s muscles turned rocklike, his jaw locking. Giving Higley no more than a cursory glance, Joseph kept his torso forward, his voice mute. Surely he didn’t.
Higley went on as if Joseph had invited more conversation instead of trying to silence it. “I admire you—and your cousin. There is much to be feared, but that seems to not deter either of you.”
Pressing on the stirrups, Joseph moved backward on his seat, pretending composure despite his piling suspicions. “Should not a man—or woman—do their duty despite the risks? Taking on such work is what Hannah and I wanted. The king must be defended, and I can only say I am glad we are believed. For as Willis knows too well, there is much of lies about, much of secrecy.”
Higley pulled his lip between his teeth, his horse tugging at the reins, as if she wished to move faster. “I do hope you will be careful. Both of you.”
Joseph shrugged the comment away. “We shall do our best, but there is little to fear from one’s friends.”
“Stockton is not your friend.” Higley’s voice became sharp as an icy barb. “You know not with whom you trifle.”
He pulled his horse to a stop, and Joseph did the same, his skin bepricked with retained panic. His voice refused to work, his glare speaking loud enough to scrape the bark from the trees. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Nay, you do not.” Higley answered in the kind of whisper that could crack iron. “He was prepared to have a woman hanged not five months ago. If not for Donaldson and Smith’s intervention, he would have taken her life without a thought.”
The blood drained from Joseph’s head. Why had Nathaniel not said something of this? Why had not Donaldson? Confusion and fear plaited down his back.
Higley went on. “Do not suppose that his attraction to Hannah will make him any less likely to hang her should she be discovered.”
