Indeed, it appeared to be half the size of Agnes’s now charred dwelling, not much bigger than the foreman’s cottage beneath Dalfour Castle beside the river.
Suddenly, the tramp of many racing footsteps sounded behind him. Agnes froze in place.
“Run,” he whispered to her. “Go back and hide in the barn. I’ll stay here.”
“This is my land.” Agnes’s eyes sparked fire in the moonbeams.
Within a minute a force of nine men surrounded them.
“Who are you?” One man pointed a musket at Edwin. “I’ve never seen you around here. State your name.”
Edwin tensed. Would this madness end for him tonight?
Then another man raised his weapon and aimed it at Agnes’s heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Agnes did not flinch. She barely breathed as she studied the faces of the men in what little light the moon afforded her. Their hats kept their features in the deepest shadows, but she did not doubt that they knew her. Nearly everyone stopped at the forge now and then, but that fact did not calm her rapid pulse for one of the militia men she recognized instantly. And he was the one who held the barrel of his musket aimed at Edwin’s head.
She kept her hands clasped together to prevent them from shaking. “Captain Huddy. That is my mother’s cousin, Edwin. You do not need to threaten him.”
The captain had a reputation for his hot temper and frequent violations of the law. Last year he had pulled the rope on Stephen Edwards, a man accused of spying.
“Isn’t it rather late for you to be walking along in the dark, Miss Agnes?” Joshua Huddy did not lower his musket, although the man who had aimed his firearm at Agnes lowered his.
“I was working on a new project in the forge, sir, where Edwin is my apprentice.” When Edwin left, she planned to tell everyone that he did not find the work to his liking.
“I’ve never seen him before.” Captain Huddy did not move a muscle. His musket was cocked and ready to fire.
Tension tightened every nerve in Agnes’s body. She struggled to keep her voice calm. “He arrived only recently.”
“He appears to be barely able to walk. Couldn’t be much help to you,” Huddy snarled.
Edwin glared as his jaw twitched. She prayed he would not do anything foolish.
“He can pump the bellows, add more charcoal, fetch another rod, and listen to my instructions.”
“How was he injured?” The captain continued his questioning.
“A careless accident in the forge, which was my fault.” The lie rolled off her tongue quickly. She hated being forced to use falsehoods, but Edwin’s life depended upon it.
“No, I am the clumsy one. Miss Agnes did not realize my tendency to trip over my own feet,” Edwin put in mildly.
Huddy’s brow lifted and a mean smile tightened at the corners of his mouth. “Ah, so you can speak, and with such an elegant accent. Indeed, you sound highborn.”
“I grew up in East Anglia,” Edwin replied.
“That’s where my mother came from, too,” Agnes pointed out. “She spoke in very much the same manner.”
“She died when you were young,” Huddy stated. “Your father never speaks of her.”
“Yes, her death was a terrible blow to him, as well as to my sister and I. Did you hear of the murder of our dear Colleen, who raised us? Edwin saw three men run into the woods after he heard Colleen scream. He pulled her from our burning house, but she had been…” Emotion choked her. Even in this volatile situation, she seemed unable to control her reaction to her grief. She lowered her head and took in a ragged breath.
“The base of her skull was smashed.” Edwin’s voice held a challenge, which only added to her unease.
“Our sympathies on your loss.” Huddy’s tone turned to a low growl. “We have been harassing the British line and will soon be rid of all those who pay obeisance to the king. Have you signed the oath of Allegiance?”
“Yes, of course.” Edwin nodded. “Though I was robbed of all my possessions as I journeyed here.”
“Loyalists?” Huddy snarled.
Edwin nodded again.
“I’ve no doubt he will learn the blacksmith trade and help build this country’s strength.” Agnes wished the endless questions would end.
Huddy lowered his musket and a surge of relief washed through Agnes.
“Our country needs more blacksmiths,” Huddy stated. “How is the forge getting along without your father?”
“Quite well, sir, and as busy as ever.” Agnes smiled as wide as possible, but her face hurt with the effort.
“Have you seen the Zimmer brothers?” Huddy asked.
Agnes’s heart dropped as all the tension returned. “Not today, sir…though yesterday—”
“Confound them!” he thundered. “They are as useless as teats on a boar.”
The other men laughed.
“Come, my hardy band, we’ve excellent pies waiting for us at Mistress Hart’s tavern.” Huddy raised his arm and they all sprinted away.
Agnes and Edwin did not move until the men vanished in the distance.
“That went well.” Agnes’s hands still trembled.
“Only because he had his musket pointed at my forehead,” Edwin grumbled. “Otherwise I would have thrashed him with the crutches.”
“Those who live by the sword, shall die by the sword.” Did those who live by lies, die due to their lies? Agnes had lost count of how many times she had repeated her falsehood.
“A crutch is not a sword, but it could’ve caused a nasty lump on his hot head.” Edwin spoke through his teeth. She had never seen him so angry.
“How can people live in this boiling bed of foment? Everyone in this country is a lunatic, um, except you and Margaret, and maybe Hobart…and the Newtons…” His wrath seemed to peter out and his voice softened. “There are many good people.”
“We want to live free and we will succeed, at some point. For now, we must deal with the consequences until the king and his followers realize we cannot fail.” She believed it in her heart, though she feared more retribution from the Tories. What if they burned Aunt Sally’s house, the barn, and the forge? What if they murdered another loved member of the family?
A shiver ran along her shoulders and she closed her eyes in an attempt to fight against the overwhelming sense of anxiety that gnawed at her day and night. She would not let them hurt anyone else.
“I will make my chain. If it does not work, I will find another way,” she vowed.
“What about the Zimmer brothers? The miller promised to take them to the captain. Was Huddy that captain?” Edwin asked.
“No,” she answered.
“Where are they?”
“The miller will pass by the forge tomorrow as usual. I’ll ask him what happened to them.”
Aunt Sally’s house lay dark and quiet. Stepping inside, Agnes lit one candlestick and set it on the table.
“Everyone sleeps upstairs. You must remain here,” she whispered.
“This is far better than a tent in the rain.” He lowered himself to sit on the chair beside the hearth. “Thank you again for all you’ve done. I would be dead if not for you.”
She thought of all her untruths and sighed. There had been no other way. “You have been a comfort to me and to Margaret, but please do not partake of powerful spirits anymore.”
His smile held a touch of sorrow. “I discovered it is preferable to suffer from one ache instead of two, though I’m sure Hobart meant well.”
“The pain in your leg should leave you once the flesh knits together, but if you would simply lie still…”
“I’ll not be an invalid.” His words took on an edge of cold steel.
“By forcing yourself to move, you could be making the damage worse.” She sat beside him and pressed her fingers against the swollen flesh of his knee. “If you lie down and raise your leg, the swelling may go down.”
“I will get weak if I do nothing,” he insisted.
“You must learn patien
ce.” She wished he had not been brought to such a difficult circumstance, but he seemed bent on ignoring any common sense when it came to healing. “In a few months you should be able to do all you did before, as long as you give your leg time to heal.”
“I do not have time, for I cannot stay.” He reached for her hand and the warmth of his touch shimmered up her arm. “You risked much for me.”
“I did what I thought would be right according to the Lord’s words.” She stated it softly as a sense of inadequacy swept over her. She had made a perilous decision to save this one man. Yet, he might still fall into his enemies’ hands. He might die.
“The Good Samaritan?” His tender smile warmed her.
“Yes, that is what we are expected to do and what I hope someone else will do if my father or my uncle become injured.”
“I wish all believed as you do.”
“I have faith that they will someday, but for now I am trying to set a good example, although my conscience is troubled, for I must lie.”
“Part of the fault is mine, for I joined you in the deception.” He reached for her other hand. “Perhaps someday I can pay you back for your trouble.”
“I do not expect payment. I will be comforted when I know you are safely where you belong.”
A loud thump sounded at the door, startling them both. Agnes tugged her hands away and stood as panic gripped her. Was that Captain Huddy come to seize Edwin?
Then came a squeal, another thump, and a snort.
“Jonas.” Agnes chuckled with relief as her fears were allayed. “I must let him in or he will wake everyone.”
“Shouldn’t he sleep in the barn?”
“It is empty.” She opened the door. Jonas walked in and lay down on the hearth. “Aunt Sally will chase him out at dawn, but you have a companion for the night.”
“He’s a pig. Pigs do not sleep in people’s houses,” he muttered.
Jonas lifted his head, snorted his displeasure and glared at Edwin.
“Jonas is special. He’s a member of the family,” she said. “I wish you pleasant dreams, Edwin.” She left him and climbed the narrow stairway to the upstairs room. Weary to the bone, she removed her outer garments and hung them on one of the pegs on the wall.
Aunt Sally snored in her bed. The twins made not a peep in their bed.
She lay down on the straw mattress beside Margaret who rolled over, mumbled something, and went on dreaming.
Though every muscle in her weary body longed for rest, Agnes’s mind would not stop turning. What if Huddy had killed Edwin or taken him away? Where were the Zimmer brothers and what sort of revenge would they wreak next?
Would her chain end the Tories’ boats from coming up the river, or was she wasting time and energy in her endeavor?
The weight of her troubles seemed far too great to bear, but then she remembered Edwin’s kiss and how in that one brief moment when his lips touched hers, all her fears melted away.
She wondered if he might steal another kiss soon.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Did you let that pig in here?”
Aunt Sally’s strident question woke Edwin. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and realized he must have nodded off sitting in the chair beside the hearth. The candle on the table sputtered out hours ago. Daylight’s promise had not arrived. A few glowing embers provided the only illumination in the room.
“No, I did not,” he replied. “Do you know it’s still dark?”
“There’s baking to be done.” Aunt Sally grabbed a broom leaning against the wall.
Jonas squealed, got to his feet, and dashed for the door. The clever animal unlatched it with his snout and ran outside.
Aunt Sally locked the door behind him. “He thinks he’s the lord of the manor, for the girls treat him as such. One day he’ll be nothing but ham, bacon, and soup bones.”
Edwin’s mouth watered at the thought. When was the last time he sat down to a breakfast with sausages, bacon, and eggs? The image of the breakfast table and silver platters heaped with savory meats at Dalfour Castle loomed in his mind. His gaze swept toward the head of the table where the Duke sat, directing his piercing stare at Edwin.
Edwin shivered and tried to shake the memory from his mind.
Aunt Sally tied an apron over her dress. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to sleep in the forge.”
“I have difficulty climbing into the loft.”
“Then use the barn.”
“It is infested with vermin.”
“Ha! Do you think you’re the lord of the manor, too?” she asked as she set about building up the fire.
“No, I’ll never be that.” He sighed. He had a right to claim the honorary title of lord, but that’s all it was, a designation placed upon him as a mark of who his father was. England abounded with other similarly labeled gentlemen. To earn a living, he would have to become a barrister, wear a wig, and be as pompous as his older brothers.
He scratched his head at the thought of the itchy, smelly wig.
“I can’t see why Agnes believes you’d make a good blacksmith. I’ll wager you never picked up a hammer until now.”
“I have a way with horses.” He did not curry them, feed them, or muck out their stalls. However, he possessed a remarkable skill for making them obey him. He loved to ride.
He thought of Swindle and a lump welled in his throat.
The rapid patter of small feet sounded on the stairs and the twins burst into the room.
“It’s Cousin Edwin!” they shouted together in unison.
They flew at him and grabbed his crutches.
“Hey!” he called out, but they ignored him.
Standing in the middle of the floor, the two boys aimed the ends of the crutches at each other as if they were jousting.
“Put those down!” Aunt Sally yelled. “Go outside and get more wood.”
The boys dropped the crutches and ran out the door.
“If this child is another boy, I will lose my mind,” Aunt Sally commented as she rubbed her bulging stomach. Then she went back to her task at the hearth.
Edwin stared at the crutches, which lay about five feet away.
“Begging your pardon, but would you mind handing me the crutches?” he asked.
She glared at him as if he were no more than an insect she thought of crushing beneath her heel.
“What good are men, I ask you?” she grumbled, stamped across the room, picked up the crutches, and handed them to him.
“Thank you,” he said. “Hobart cuts hay. Surely that’s a help to you.”
“What use is hay to us now? We have no animals to feed except for a pampered pig and he turns his nose up at hay.”
“Perhaps you could trade your hay for someone else’s horse.”
Aunt Sally laughed at him. “Are you weak-headed?”
He thought about the missing hours he struggled to recall. Maybe he had fallen and hit his head. Maybe he was weak-headed. “I believe Agnes intends to trade Jonas for some chickens.”
“Who will be willing to give us their chickens for a young hog at this time of the year? Nobody is going to slaughter and smoke a pig now. The weather is far too hot,” she complained.
Edwin knew nothing about slaughtering and smoking, although he certainly enjoyed the taste of the finished meat. His stomach grumbled.
“I heard that,” she accused. “You’ll be waiting another half hour until the porridge is ready.”
“I am very sorry.” It seemed like a wise move to get out of her way. However, his stomach was as empty as a church on Monday. He smiled as he thought of the vicar who had used that expression on a regular basis. The cleric would laugh when he said it, for though the sanctuary might not have an assembly on Monday, a great deal of his time was spent caring for his flock during the week.
Edwin had been part of the vicar’s flock. He realized how much he missed the Sunday gatherings, the picnics, the little Christmas pageants, even the bake sales.
; His stomach rumbled again. Yes, especially the bake sales. The women of the parish made fine trifles and seed cakes. They clamored for him to sample their creations. Suppers with the vicar’s family were blessed with cakes from the grateful families in the parish.
Edwin’s mother rarely allowed him to dine on any sweets except on special holidays. He sighed. In Dalfour Castle, everything adhered to rigid dictates.
The twins came running back in the door with the wood. They both went to pull the crutches away from him again, but this time he held on tight.
“I need these,” he told them. The strength of the two young boys surprised him.
“Go upstairs and wake your cousins!” their mother ordered.
The boys ran for the stairs and a great deal of thumping ensued above him.
A few minutes later, they returned and sat at the table like perfect angels. Edwin wondered why.
Margaret, rubbing her eyes, stepped into the kitchen.
“Where’s your sister?” Aunt Sally asked.
“I let her sleep. She came in late last night.” Margaret yawned as she pulled on an apron.
“Why was that?” Aunt Sally glared at Edwin.
“She was making a chain to keep the British from coming up the river,” he explained.
“What a ridiculous waste of time!” Aunt Sally exclaimed.
“Father and Uncle Fitz said one was going to be placed across the river in New York,” Margaret defended Agnes.
“Men and their wars! They squander all their time on foolishness!” Aunt Sally shoveled hot coals into the oven on the right side of the fireplace. “You best get to kneading,” she told Margaret.
Margaret lifted the top of a wooden box and dug inside for a massive lump of dough. She handed a fistful to each of the boys, who then proceeded to pound the dough and roll it into fat worms. The worms then began to attack each other. The boys’ antics soon had Edwin smiling and remembering his brothers similarly involved with dough scraps handed to them by one of the cooks in Dalfour Castle’s immense kitchen.
He decided to join the youngsters. He hobbled to the table where he sat opposite the two young lads.
“May I have a piece of dough, too?” he asked.
Margaret smiled. “Of course.” She handed him a great dollop. “Sprinkle a bit of the flour on the table to keep the dough from sticking.”
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