So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  The doctor looked from Joseph to Hannah and nodded, a somber tilt across his mouth. “I am pleased to see you are looking so much better.” He turned to Joseph, his tone dropping an octave. “Do you have the full of it?”

  “Nay, but enough.”

  Nathaniel’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”

  “The king’s men have taken control of the foundry.” Joseph paused, his throat working. “They killed Ensign. Hannah managed to escape unharmed.”

  Eyes sharp as a blade’s edge, Nathaniel looked swiftly to the man Hannah still didn’t know, before facing her. “Why did they take it? Did they say?”

  Hannah’s shivering increased, and she gripped the little mug harder, wishing its warmth could seep into her soul as well as it seeped into her fingers. “To use it—’tis what I understand from what I heard him say.”

  “Who?” The stranger neared, his striking face strict with purpose. “A soldier? Did you get a name?”

  “Aye.” She scowled, scrambling through the ransacked memories, searching for the name she knew must be hidden in the disarray, when she stumbled upon it, like an overturned table. “Stockton. Major Stockton.”

  The men in the room eyed each other, their jaws ticking.

  “Not surprising there, is it?” The man whose name she still did not know clenched his fists.

  “Do you know him?” Hannah’s bravery saddled her wild curiosity, flinging the question from her lips.

  “I do,” he said, his tone answering far more than she’d asked. The stranger bowed politely in her direction. “Forgive me. I fear we have not been introduced.”

  Nathaniel stepped forward. “Miss Young, allow me to introduce Captain Henry Donaldson.”

  She nodded politely in return as the man pinned his unmoving gaze upon her.

  “What exactly did he say? Was there anyone with him?”

  Flinging a look to Joseph, Hannah shifted on the cot, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the sight of him so near. She met her questioner’s stare. “There were others. I do not recall their names…Greene, perhaps? There were more, but I don’t remember the others.”

  She glanced between Nathaniel and Joseph, whose brows shot skyward as they fixed their eyes on their friend.

  The captain shook his head, then turned back to her. “Pray, continue.”

  Tension, that ever-thickening weight on her chest, pressed so hard her lungs struggled to rise. She steadied her voice as one might a frightened horse, but still it fought against the tether. “That is all I know.”

  The three men stared, each with tight lips and hard eyes.

  The new fellow spoke low, his head dipping. “We should tell Thomas of this.”

  “Aye,” the others answered in unison.

  “Tell me what?”

  The door flung open, and another man entered. Near as tall as Joseph, this next stranger nodded instantly, his kind face softening as he glanced toward Hannah before he aimed a thoughtful scowl on the others. “Well?”

  “’Twould seem the British have gotten themselves a foundry.” Nathaniel’s chin dropped before he motioned to Hannah. “An old friend of mine, Miss Hannah Young. Miss Young, Mr. Watson.”

  Mr. Watson nodded politely before facing back to Nathaniel. “How came you by this knowledge?”

  “Miss Young’s uncle owned a foundry. And ’twould seem the British have taken it—and his life.”

  The man’s face flattened. “That is terrible indeed.” He flung a look to Hannah but quickly turned his attention to the men. “Why would you wish to inform me of such a thing?”

  Nathaniel canted his head. “I should think ’twas obvious.”

  “If you mean to say we take it back, then I am in full agreement.” Joseph folded his arms around his broad chest.

  “’Tis quite a risk.” Mr. Watson shifted his stance. “Though I am in agreement as well, we have no way of knowing their numbers, what munitions they have—”

  “If we take them by surprise, I predict a fairly easy victory.” The captain’s arms were folded, and he spoke to the ground until the last. “Though ’tis difficult to know their strength, the risk is worth the effort. We need the production of guns more than they.”

  To this, Nathaniel shifted his feet and nudged his chin at Joseph. “What say you? Had you thought of such?”

  “I had.” A muscle in Joseph’s face flexed as his jaw moved back and forth.

  Nathaniel continued his pointed gaze toward Joseph, his volume deepening. “Did he say anything to you? Did he suspect?”

  Did who suspect?

  Joseph’s gaze darted to Hannah, and she gripped her arms tighter at the glint of darkness in his glance. The emotion he harbored refused to be named, but that hint of foreboding floated on the blue of his gaze like a boat on a storming sea.

  “Who are you speaking of?” Mr. Watson stood straighter, his muscled arms thickening as he crossed them. “It appears there is something I do not know.”

  Joseph flung a strained look to Hannah, and her already tight shoulders pinched a mite more. She nearly whispered to him to speak the obvious ill, but he turned away when Nathaniel spoke.

  “You might as well know. The foundry the British have just taken now belongs to—”

  “How many men will we need?” Joseph’s voice boomed, his eyes so strained upon his friend that Hannah believed he might actually have strangled the man with his stare alone.

  With a nod, Nathaniel crossed his arms, the look on his face suggesting he understood Joseph’s sudden interruption. “That is difficult to estimate.”

  “I shall apprise Knox of this.” Mr. Watson rubbed a hand over his jaw. “He will need to know what we plan.”

  Captain Donaldson shook his head. “Without sufficient intelligence you cannot know what awaits you.”

  “There cannot be many of them.” Nathaniel shifted his weight over his feet. “Our need outweighs all. The men are desperate for occupation, and this will fill the void.”

  Hannah glanced to Joseph, his arms folded and eyes stern, then to the others, who conversed with clipped words and solemn brows. They spoke of the foundry as if it were nothing more than a place—a winnable, impersonal thing. That was her home, her life for ten years. Her future. And here they planned to make battle on the very soil her uncle gave his life upon?

  “But you cannot move forward without more knowledge, Nathaniel. You could be walking into a trap.” Captain Donaldson’s volume rose, his hand slicing the air. “We can take it, and we will, but not without first sending a scout.”

  “’Tis a risk, but can be done.” Mr. Watson looked to Joseph, then to Nathaniel. “There are many willing to be covert.”

  “But there are none who know the foundry.” Hannah’s voice startled even herself as the words seemed to fly from her mouth before her mind fully thought them. “There are few who know the woods and roads around it as well as Ensign and the men who worked there.”

  “Are they here…the workers?” the captain asked.

  “Aye.” Hannah’s cheeks burned from the gaze Joseph pinned on her, but she feigned the lack of feeling. “But such would be suspect, would it not? A known Patriot returned home—to their very work?”

  Nathaniel put his hand to his mouth, his eyebrows lifting as he looked between the men. “’Tis a valid point.”

  A flash in her mind illuminated the silhouette of a feeble thought. She blinked as she spoke to the ground. “I could do it.” She looked up, the men frozen in place.

  For longer than a few breaths, they stood without moving. She cleared her throat and tried again, for the once tiny epiphany gained stature as her rising courage nourished it. “I could do it. They would not suspect a woman.”

  Captain Donaldson cleared his throat, a gentle grin on his face. “Your bravery at even suggesting such a thing is admirable indeed, Miss Young. But I fear you would be engaging in something far too dangerous—”

  “Forgive me, Captain, but I am not ignorant of the danger.” She straight
ened as a rod of determination slid down her spine. “I do thank you for your kind regard for my well-being, but my uncle died at their hand. He gave his life for mine. I feel I am as engaged in this war as much as any of you.”

  Silence gripped the air. The men seemed unable to respond, so she continued. “I have long supported the cause of liberty, though I have not had the means or ability to be of use to it. But now I can—I must.”

  Turning only his head toward her, Joseph’s bass tone teetered quietly across the space between them. “Do not, Hannah. I know your tenacious nature. I know you would wish to do this and your cause is just, but how could we—”

  “Pardon me, Mr. Wythe, but you do not know me.” The gall of him. She shot a pointed gaze to each man, keeping her voice more calm than it had been seconds ago. “Tell me what must be done, and I shall do it.”

  “Nay.” Joseph pivoted to face her, his voice a soft boom. “You have just escaped them. I fear your journey here has stolen your reason.”

  Nathaniel stepped forward, reaching a kind hand to her arm. “We are not ignorant of the pains you have suffered, but allowing you to take such a risk is unthinkable.”

  Hannah pulled her shoulders back, straining to keep a ladylike composure on the outside, despite how it evaporated within. “I thank you for your concern.” She breathed in, leveling her chin and finishing her statement with unmistakable grit. “My mind is made up. And ’tis you now who must accept my offer. For I will do it.”

  Chapter Six

  Anger cooked Joseph from the inside as he stared at the determined slant of Hannah’s mouth. Of course she would not listen to him. He ground his teeth. He did know her, despite what she professed. ’Twas that determined, fearless spirit that first pulled his heart toward her those many years ago. He knew everything about her—he knew that shadow of a small dimple in her cheek, that rogue curl that framed her ear, and the way her face reddened when she expressed her will to do something others professed she could not. A will he knew would not easily be swayed.

  “Hannah, I would speak with you alone.” He motioned to the door of the tent.

  Her dainty eyebrows lifted, and she tilted her head with her open mouth ready to gainsay him, when he grabbed her elbow. “Come.”

  She pulled her arm from his hold, full lips pinched and eyebrows raised in shock. “Where are we going?”

  He stopped at the door and opened it, speaking across his shoulder to the men who stared with questioning eyes. “We shall not be a moment.”

  Out the door and away from his friends who certainly wished to be an audience to what would likely be a fantastic display, he marched from camp toward a line of trees where several horses were kept.

  The hum of the camp now several dozen yards away, Joseph took Hannah’s arm again and pulled her around the largest horse, partly shielding them from any straying curiosity.

  “You cannot do it, Hannah.”

  She crossed her arms under the blanket that still covered her. “You heard them. Intelligence must be had. And who better to do it than I?”

  Was she mad? “This is not for you to decide. This is a matter of war, and the risks are—”

  “You think I do not understand the gravity of what has happened, what will happen?” She hugged the blanket tighter and leaned forward. “I know what is at stake. I witnessed Ensign’s death. I know they will not hesitate to kill.”

  “Then you must understand why we cannot allow you to do it. ’Tis dangerous enough for one with experience in such things.”

  “Joseph, I—”

  “Hannah, no.” Her name felt strange and wonderful on his lips. He shifted his weight over his feet, struggling for anything that might help him at last come to fully accept where he was and with whom he spoke.

  She pursed her lips, that small dimple creasing in her cheek as she looked away. Finally she returned her eyes to his, and he felt his heart tip within him. “Ensign loved this cause. If he was willing to give his life so that I could have freedom, how can I not do that for others?”

  He clenched his fists to keep from taking her by the shoulders. “Your desire is virtuous indeed, but, Hannah, think. It would not be safe for you to return to a den of vipers, especially with no one to help you should something go amiss, for certainly something will.”

  She looked away, her head slanting.

  He paused, pressing out a heavy breath that plumed white in the frigid air. “I know you wish to help. But you have not thought it through. There are too many avenues of discovery that would make such a venture near suicide.”

  Her dainty throat bobbed, and she glanced up, red rimming her eyes. “I want to do something. I must. Somehow.”

  Was it the sorrow in her voice or her determination that stalled him? Both, likely. Unable to move, Joseph allowed his eyes to trail over her. Here they stood, speaking as if they were no more than acquaintances, no more than two souls striving for a common cause. Hannah. The wilderness of unspoken hurts stretched for miles between them, yet he could reach out and touch her cheek, tuck that curl behind her ear. Here she stood, as real and alive as he had ever seen her. Though so much time had passed, it almost seemed a dream, beautiful and wrenching. All he wished to speak wrestled with what he should. Of course she could not be allowed to do what she willed. Such a thing could very likely take her life. She must be made to understand that.

  Willing himself to tear open the sack of protests that weighed heavy in his arms, he stepped forward, mouth open and ready to speak, but ’twas Nathaniel’s voice that cut the air between them.

  “Joseph.”

  Both of them looked up to see their friend a polite distance away on the other side of the horses.

  Joseph answered. “Aye?”

  Nathaniel nodded to Hannah. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I should like to speak with Joseph alone if I may.”

  She offered a smile in reply before flashing a tight-mouthed expression to Joseph. “Of course.”

  Stepping sideways, Nathaniel motioned back the way he’d come. “If you are willing, I would be grateful if you would return to the tent and take some broth. Your strength cannot yet be recovered in full, I am sure.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I believe you are right.” After another quick look to Joseph, she rounded the animal and plodded back toward camp just as Nathaniel neared Joseph.

  “You know…” Nathaniel glanced in Hannah’s direction but spoke to Joseph. “She may have a point in what she proposes.”

  “What?” The searing audacity of such a statement nearly melted the snow beneath his shoes. “What can you possibly mean?”

  “I mean she could be right—that she could make a good spy.”

  “Not two moments ago you were as much against it as I.” A hard laugh burst from Joseph’s chest and echoed through the grove behind him. “You have gone daft.”

  The usual brevity in Nathaniel’s nature never surfaced. He only stared, a slight lift to one brow and twist to his head.

  ’Twas Joseph now who balked. “You cannot be serious.”

  “We are in desperate need of intelligence, Joseph. And though the thought of placing her at risk is beyond comprehension, it is a brilliant stratagem.”

  A slug to the gut would have taken him by less surprise. Nathaniel would actually approve of this? “Thomas and Henry agree with you then.” He prayed the statement wouldn’t be verified.

  “They were the ones who persuaded me.”

  A rough grunt raked up Joseph’s throat, and he stepped toward the trees, hoping the motion would ease the sudden rage that burned his limbs. “You will enable her foolishness.” He spun back around. “Surely they cannot be ignorant of the fact that she could be killed.”

  “Of course they are not, which is why…” He stopped. Amusement flashed in his eyes before earnest resolve curtained the mirth. “Which is why we have devised a plan.”

  “Oh!” Joseph feigned pleasure at the thought, his voice bright. “You have devised a plan?” He cocked his
hip, the theatrics gone. “I have learned to be wary of that glint in your eye.”

  “She wishes to go, and truthfully, we cannot stop her. But we can insist she have someone accompany her.”

  At this, Nathaniel’s smile grew slightly, and Joseph’s stomach clenched.

  Ha! Truly, his friend had lost his senses. A barrage of protests hurled across the battlefield of his mind, but the fight was too violent to allow any thought to make way to his voice.

  He marched for the trees once more, hearing Nathaniel speak behind him. “’Tis the only thing that makes sense.”

  Joseph jerked to a halt and pivoted back around. “It does not make sense.” He choked the words free, still unable to speak as fully as he wished. “I will not go along with it.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone fight and shoot as well as you.” Nathaniel paused, expression cinching. “I’ve never seen anyone bluff the way you can. ’Twas as if you were trained for this, Joseph.”

  The unvoiced message in Nathaniel’s words ground like a bootheel in flesh. “Do not try to flatter me. Cyprian’s treatment hardened me in my youth, made me fight for myself both mentally and physically, aye.” Frustration steamed. “I may have learned to hide my emotions well, but that doesn’t mean I am ready for this kind of covert action—and neither is Hannah.”

  Nathaniel went on, undeterred as if he’d heard nothing of Joseph’s protest. “You could pass as relatives—as brother and sister even.” He tilted his head, one eyebrow slanted. “And if you two were to ‘return home’ to Eaton Hill after visiting a Loyalist family up north and simply happen to find the soldiers there…I do believe such a tale would be believed.”

  “Let us say your plan is accepted and we move forward—how are we to act at the ‘news’ of our father’s death, hmm?” He removed his hat and raked a hand over his head. Growling to the sky, he finished the continuous thought. “There are so many flaws in this proposal I cannot begin to name them. Not to mention anything of the fact that you are completely ignorant of the past that lies like a vast ocean between Hannah and me. We cannot be made to spend time together like that, Nathaniel. ’Twould not be proper, no matter how we devised it.” Improper, aye. More, ’twould be cutting open a festering wound and salting it through.