“He didn’t say where he was going.”
“Nay, Sir.”
Hang it all. He was on his tail but still a day behind. And a greater dilemma impeded him now. Should he continue to Boston or reverse his journey south? The harsh exchange that volleyed in his mind made his head swirl. Boston would provide a large number of men to hide among. But it would also mean more soldiers. Nay. The patriots were distrusting and Donaldson would risk too much suspicion. I should have considered that before. Donaldson would have to find someone he knew…
In the far corners of his memory, a tiny glimmer of light flickered. Hadn’t Donaldson spoken of his encounter with a patriot in a small town on the coast? Captain Martin had gone there some years past and had taken Donaldson with him, but what was the name of the place? ’Twas the same family of the woman Donaldson had helped escape before his capture. Paul squinted, straining to rouse that small flicker to a blaze. He looked over the saddle tapping his hand against the seat when in an instant the name burst like the flash of musket fire.
Paul launched onto his saddle and yanked the reins left. With a nod he kicked the horse. “Thank you, Jimmy. You’ve been most helpful.”
Hurrying backward away from the horse, Jimmy’s face bunched in question. “Where are you going?”
Paul answered over his shoulder. “Sandwich.”
~~~
A mere three days after being in their new home, Eliza had invited Anna and William for supper. “Once you are settled, of course,” she had said. A fortnight had passed now, and the appointed day was upon them. Walking down the dirt-covered road, Anna welcomed the yellow autumn light on her back and the loamy scent of the air as she found her way to the mercantile in the center of town. She grinned wide. Of all the towns she’d seen in her travels, this might be the smallest. But size or population mattered little. She’d have chosen this lovely little place over the foul streets of London a hundred times over.
Reveling in
the sun against her skin, she nodded at a mother and daughter as they passed along the road, other travelers and shoppers dotting the street. ’Twas only a few hours before they were expected for supper at the Watson’s and she had much to prepare. She increased her pace.
Blessedly Eliza hadn’t asked for her to bring any food to contribute for the meal—Kitty may have suggested against it—but the thought warmed rather than frustrated. She could hardly feed her own husband, let alone prepare anything for their friends. A smile budded. Coming without food did not mean she would arrive empty handed. All she needed was a bit of ribbon.
She stopped and looked up at the shingle that rocked back and forth in the afternoon breeze. “Breets: Goods and Wares”, it read. Wasn’t that what Eliza had mentioned to be the best mercantile?
Mouth scrunched in thought, she stepped in, the powerful scent of spices tickling her nose.
“Good day to you, lass.” The proprietor approached, his round spectacles sitting crooked on his nose. He touched them and squinted. “How may I be of service?”
Warmth radiated from his dimpled smile, allowing her to set her shoulders at a more relaxed slope. “I thank you, sir. Indeed I am in need of some ribbon, if you have it.”
“I do believe I can assist you there.” He hummed and pinched the bridge of his nose then wagged his finger in the air. Silent, he disappeared through the backdoor and reemerged seconds later. “My wife takes care of these things most of the time, but she’s visiting down south.” He held out his hand, his mouth pulled down in a disparaging smile. “I’ve got only four here. I do hope one of these will be to your liking.”
She reached out, granting him a quick, thankful grin before examining the pieces. Two simple white strands, a thick blue and another light pink. Either of them would look lovely for the christening gown she had nearly finished for Eliza’s baby. She looked up again and removed her glove, pointing. “Do you mind?”
“Nay, lass.” He chuckled. “The feel of it makes all the difference.”
She offered a pleasing hum as she dusted her fingers against the different ribbons. All were remarkably soft and of incredible craft. “Beautiful. I’ve hardly seen anything so delicate. From England, I suspect?”
“Aye.” With a scowl both stern and cordial, he continued. “But no more. From now on I sell only goods produced in the colonies, lass. We do not take lightly to what King George has imposed and ’tis our duty to prove it.”
Her cheeks heated as embarrassment crept up her face. She should have known. “Oh, of course.”
“We do not need Mother England to care for us like a pudding-capped child.” The words, deep with conviction, were soft, as if he wished to share with her, and perhaps even convert her to the deepest thoughts of his soul. “The king will soon see that we can provide for ourselves and that our lives must not be so unjustly forced upon. Unless he wishes to respect our needs, we shall force independence.”
The set of his jaw and slight upturn of one eyebrow sent a spark through her. What courage. Had these brave colonists any idea of the trouble that awaited them if they continued to oppose the king? They must, surely. Not that she was opposed to it, only that the vastness of such a paradigm was impossible to grasp. And if this war did continue, she would undoubtedly feel the inevitable lashings of it. Was she prepared for such a future?
She brushed away the deep thoughts with a smile and quick breath and reached in her reticule. “How much for the blue?”
He waved his hand, mouth bowed down. “’Tis a gift to you.”
“Sir, I—.”
“Nay, nay.” He put his hands in his pockets, eyes bright. “You’ve brought a smile to me this quiet afternoon, lass.”
Her face lifted in a smile that started from deep within. “I cannot begin to thank you.”
He blew out from his lips and wagged his hand at her again, then pointed. “No thanks is needed. I’ve just arranged a lovely stack of new fabrics—in the corner over there.” His dimples made another grand appearance. “You are welcome to look over them and see if anything appeals to you. I shall be in the back if you have need of anything more.”