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

by Amber Lynn Perry

  Greene stomped forward, shoving the paper at Stockton’s chest before he looked to Hannah, snapping her bleeding heart away from a pain she could not understand. “This does not absolve you of involvement, Miss Young.” His glare squeezed. “You shall get what’s coming to you.”

  * * *

  “They are innocent!” Philo reached out hard and fast. “I confess.”

  The young soldier twisted back, mouth firm. “You confess?”

  “Aye.” Philo swallowed before speaking the rest, praying Providence would fill his mind with anything that would convince the crimson-faced soldiers he spoke the truth. “’Twas all my doing.”

  “You?” Stockton stepped forward, arms rigid at his sides.

  Eyes narrowing, he gouged Philo with a stare that made his stomach physically tighten.

  “You told me you were friendly to the king. That you were pleased we used the foundry for these very purposes. And we find this in your pocket?”

  Philo licked his lips and adjusted his weight over his feet. By God’s help alone he’d been able to snatch the note from Joseph’s pocket and secure it in his own without detection. And the ruse of anger had worked so well, it seemed to be believed by everyone. But there was more to feed them, and he feared perhaps they would not bite.

  If only God would show mercy in this time of his humility. That He would show His hand and rescue Hannah from Philo’s sins that had brought them all here.

  “Well?” Stockton snarled.

  Philo straightened. “I have been watching the house since your arrival and secretly intercepting all messages leaving the house.”

  “Impossible.” An almost imperceptible slant tilted Stockton’s head. “I have not seen you. Neither has anyone else.” He swiveled his head to Hannah. “Was he making you give him my notes—”

  “No!” Philo’s panic clawed. His well-meant but senseless attempt at persuasion could have her taken as well. Lord, help me. “She knew nothing of this. I…” ’Twas clear the man was more confused than convinced, and Philo poured a heavier dose of truth atop the rest of his fabrication. “I wanted Joseph away from Hannah, and when I learned they were both at the house, I knew I needed to keep an eye on things—not only to relay messages to Washington but hopefully to keep them apart. And so, this evening when I saw them together, I knew…” Such falsehoods scraped bloody paths on their way to his lips. If only he would have a chance to tell Hannah how sorry he was. To dissect the real regrets from the lies he used to protect her. After a tight breath, he finished. “I knew that if I could make you believe that Joseph was the one with the missive, I might be able to escape…but, as you see, I have not had such a luxury.”

  The following silence and dissatisfied grins on the faces of the men he’d hoped to convert razed the remaining pillars of his confidence. He swung another look to Hannah, whose ashen expression squeezed every unspoken pain from his heart.

  He’d not wished to hurt her yet again. Had he known…Philo slammed his eyes shut. Nay, if he had known, then his rage might have been even more ferocious. His only hope remained in this feeble effort to atone for all the grief she’d suffered at his hand.

  But that effort seemed doomed to fail.

  Unless…

  “Let them go.” His spirit breathed to life as the passion for his daughter’s freedom consumed. “I am ready to tell you what I know and would gladly give my life for the cause—if only you will give me your word that Hannah and Joseph may go free.”

  “Father!” Hannah gripped the arm of the soldier at her side. She threw a weeping glance to Joseph, whose fallen expression was frozen with shock.

  “You’ve been blatantly vocal in your ill favor and disdain for Joseph.” Stockton crossed his arms. “I find it puzzling that you would not wish your daughter free of him.”

  Philo pitched his eyes toward Joseph. “I refuse to allow an innocent man to suffer despite my eternal dislike of him.”

  A hard, staccato laugh jumped from Stockton’s throat as he looked to the other soldiers in the room. He moved back and faced Philo, eyes black. “You are willing to be treasonous yourself, wishing no harm to come to a man you claim is innocent, but whom you hate.” Again he laughed. “You Patriots are dichotomous.”

  Philo’s very limbs numbed as the pronouncement of their fates hung like a sword above their necks. Philo could only hope that his was the neck that would be stretched and not theirs. Lord, please not theirs.

  “Lieutenant, take this man and oversee the construction of a gallows.”

  Greene nodded as Stockton continued his commands. “Captain Higley, I give you charge of these two until dawn, at which time Reverend Young will be hanged for treason.”

  “No!”

  Hannah’s cry split the air, and she sank to her knees, her sobbing spilling through the room. Higley crouched to help her up as Joseph launched forward, clearly aching to be at her side. Somehow ’twas only the two of them that Philo could think upon, not the quivering fear of a rope about his throat. Nay. ’Twas the hope of their freedom and future that filled his soul like a pool heaving beyond its bounds. They must have what he had denied them. At any cost.

  Once Higley helped Hannah to her feet, Stockton shoved the note at Higley’s chest, his voice clinging to calm. “Keep this as well.” Stepping back, he rolled his shoulders straight.

  The young Redcoat almost grinned. Philo’s heart split open and cried out to heaven. Lord, let my death be the end of their sorrows. Bless my sacrifice for their gain, Lord. I pray thee.

  Stockton flicked his wrist at Joseph, commanding in a single gesture that Joseph march toward the door.

  Hannah shook her head violently, craning her neck to see past Higley as he ushered her outside. “Father! No, Father, please! You cannot die!”

  Joseph stopped at the door, shoving Stockton with the hate in his eyes. “Untie me so I may assist her.”

  Wrath plumed from Stockton’s flaming eyes, the fetor of confused animosity as strong as the man’s breath. With a quiet grunt he reached to his side and unsheathed the dagger and, with a swift swipe, cut Joseph’s wrists free.

  Pivoting back, Joseph’s expression was hard at the edges and addled in the center. His jaw worked for a moment before he turned and hurried out the door.

  From his place by the doorway, Stockton rested all his fierce attention on Philo. “Someone must be made to show what will happen to those who go against the king. And you, Reverend, it seems will be the one to help me make such an exhibition.”

  There was no fear, as he’d thought perhaps there would be. In its place, peace nestled. The likes of which he hadn’t relished in far too long.

  With a nod, Philo answered. “So long as you give your word that my daughter and Joseph will be set free.” He glanced to Hannah, whose cheeks were wet as she held a hand over her mouth.

  Stockton’s eyes narrowed, and his head cant to one side ever so slight. “I must be sure they have not themselves committed treason—”

  “They have not—”

  “I will do as I see fit!” He gestured for Philo to exit. “You will spend your last evening in the barn, where Lieutenant Greene will extract from you what information you have to share.”

  They would torture him then? Would that God might fill his head with something, anything that might persuade them he had knowledge to share and that they would find his fabrication plausible.

  Philo started for the door, and Hannah reached for him, her face pleading. But Greene yanked him away and through the door, into the biting night. Greene continued to pull Philo across the yard, but he wrenched his neck around to peer at the child he loved—the child who called for him through her tears. Past the few soldiers that still shuffled around the yard, past the bodies that lay side by side on the cold ground, Philo opened his soul to God. Oh Lord. Have mercy. That would be him in a matter of hours. His mortal vestiture to at last become one with the earth.

  Entering the dank barn, he was shoved against a bench seconds b
efore the door was slammed and blackness consumed him. He knit his fingers and pressed his hands against his head, a surge of emotion writhing through him in gasping waves.

  He fell to his knees and wept. The grief he had caused, the compassion he had withheld—the love he had not shared and should have, racked him with the pains of a soul already damned to hell. Gritting his teeth until his jaw threatened to crack, Philo strained to keep his wailing silent as tears spilled over his cheeks.

  Lord, I thank thee for allowing me to offer myself in their place, that I may take upon myself the punishment. Forgive me, I pray thee. Forgive me. Grant my daughter freedom. Give her the life she deserves with the man she loves. And, Lord, grant me thy everlasting grace, that despite my transgressions I may be permitted to come into thy kingdom.

  He inhaled a gasping breath and gripped his fingers into his hair.

  In a few hours he would meet the very One he prayed to. Then he would know what God would decree for him, whether he was worthy of an eternity of rest and peace.

  But even then, there was only one thing he truly wanted. A thing he feared he might not ever have but was more precious to him than salvation.

  If Hannah could forgive him, ’twould be enough to give peace to his writhing spirit no matter where he spent eternity. And for that very need, he held his head in his hands and prayed as he had never done before.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Joseph gripped Hannah around the shoulders and helped her up the front steps of the home where the party went on in disinterested bliss. Her trembling frame unsettled what feeble inner strength Joseph had remaining. He still could not comprehend what had happened. How had Philo attained the note, and why would he—

  “There you are. Oh my dear!” Dottie rushed from the house, arms extended. “Come. Come. I will take you inside and give you some tea by the fire.”

  Hannah’s pained smile showed her thanks, but the red rimming her eyes lay bare the raw emotions that pierced her as real as a weapon in her flesh.

  Joseph pressed a kiss to Hannah’s head and nudged her face toward his. “Warm yourself. I shall not be long.”

  Her cold fingers gripped his, and her words cracked. “Why did he…” She shook her head, a tear falling.

  He brushed it away, hoping she would finish the rest—unburden her heart of the questions she bore.

  “What happened, Joseph? Why would he do it?”

  Again, he dotted his lips against her hair. “I do not know, my darling.”

  He replayed the scene, and still he could not settle on anything that would calm his frenzied spirit. The woman whose father had hated them would now suffer a fate that should have been theirs. The questions hung from his shoulders, pressing against his back, and there was no amount of shrugging that would release their hold. Only answers. And he must have them. For Hannah, if not for himself. She could not endure a life with an unknown that harrowed such as this.

  Joseph glanced to Dottie, whose pointed features were soft with concern. “Thank you for seeing to her. I shall not be long.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, taking Joseph’s place at Hannah’s side and leading her into the house.

  He didn’t move as he watched them enter and close the giant door behind them. Shaking his head, Joseph exhaled a hard breath from his nose. If only there were a way to—

  “You should not stay here long.”

  Joseph turned his head behind him at the sound of Higley’s voice. “Nay.” He knew that much but had yet the luxury of considering what he could do—where he could take her, where they would be safe. And should he bring Jacob as well? Or would that place the boy in greater danger should they be caught? Lord, grant me thy wisdom, I pray thee.

  Stepping beside him, Higley looked at the door just as Joseph had done. “Stockton is not a man to easily forgive or forget.” At that, he turned his solemn stare to Joseph. “Though he now has one whom he can unleash his rage upon, that does not mean you are free. You must take her where his reach will not find you.”

  Unbidden, his lips spoke the very thing his mind struggled to subdue. “I must speak with him.”

  “Who?”

  “I cannot allow him to die when…” He looked to the house. His own need to know consumed, but ’twas Hannah’s pains he must find a way to ease. “I must speak with him.”

  “You cannot.” Higley’s answer was firm but gentle. “You must focus upon getting to safety first, and then—”

  “The woman I love is about to lose her father without any chance to say good-bye to him.” Joseph gripped Higley’s arm. “Help me find a way to speak with him. I only need a moment.”

  “Nay.” Seething, Higley answered through his teeth. “If you are found there, you too might hang, and what then?”

  “So you will not help me?” Confusion and frustration made their way to anger, and he released his hold with a push. “Then I shall go alone.”

  “Wait.” Higley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I shall get you into the barn, but not for long.”

  Tension quieting, Joseph studied the man beside him. “Why do you help us?” Once the cached questions began to spill from his lips, they would not be stayed. “Why be so intent upon helping us find refuge? Why is a man in the king’s army so willing to help the enemy when you know well the consequences?”

  Higley’s jaw flexed, and he looked away, dropping his grip. With a breath he turned back, a slight grin at his mouth. “We best get going.”

  ’Twas clear he would offer nothing more, and Joseph struggled to place the spilled questions back in the box that seemed too small to hold them.

  Higley went to his mount and swung his leg up. “I can grant you five minutes.”

  Feeling began to return to Joseph’s anxiety-numbed limbs, and he hurried to the horse beside Higley. “Let’s ride.”

  * * *

  ’Twas four in the morning, the sky still as black and morose as it had been when he’d first arrived at Willis’s yard an hour before. But activity buzzed as if the noon sun were in the sky. Having left their mounts some yards behind, Joseph followed Higley wide around the back of the home, where no soldiers patrolled, and up to the back door of the spacious barn.

  Hand on Joseph’s shoulder, Higley’s usually stern expression hardened to a deep glower. “You must speak quickly.” He looked over Joseph’s shoulder as if he’d heard something. “I will do my best to keep the guards in front occupied, but should you hear anything, you must leave immediately.”

  He nodded. A handful of minutes was not much time…but ’twas ample when his barren understanding stretched like a never-ending wilderness.

  “Here.” Higley reached in his side pocket and produced a small book. “Stockton will not provide any traitor with the peace of a reverend’s word before his execution. As he is one himself, he might not need this, but I have a feeling that your sharing God’s word with him would be welcome.”

  Joseph took the Bible from Higley’s grasp, his chest tight and heavy. “Will they draw and quarter him?”

  With a sigh, Higley released his hold and straightened. “I’ve seen Stockton hang a good many, but never does he insist upon the rest. I feel he doesn’t care for the mess of it.”

  The mess of it. A shiver chased down Joseph’s spine. Thank the Lord for that. The knowledge eased some of the churnings in Joseph’s gut, but ’twas little solitude when one’s life would end in a matter of hours.

  Higley raised a finger to his lips and opened the door, entering halfway and craning his neck from one side to the other to be sure no one waited within. He pulled back and nodded that ’twas safe to enter.

  Hurrying through the door, Joseph was struck with the cold, stale scent of hay and dust in the room that welcomed as much as a slatted coffin. He stood motionless to allow his eyes to fix upon the minuscule stripes of light yellow that squeezed through the boards of the main door, behind which the soldiers built the gallows by light of torch and lantern.

  At long la
st, his eyes adjusted. There, at the other side of the barn, Philo sat with his elbows on his knees and fingers knit in prayer. He didn’t look up, though surely he must have heard Joseph enter.

  “Philo?” Joseph whispered as he stepped quietly forward, lifting his own prayers heavenward that God would prepare Philo’s heart. If the man suspected Joseph were there for some ill design, they would both be forced to endure a more terrible end.

  “Philo.”

  Finally he looked up, the beams of faint light gleaming in his eyes. He looked to the door beside him, then rose in silence and hurried to Joseph, arms sweeping wildly. Stopping only inches from Joseph, he placed a hand on Joseph’s shoulder, the other pointing to the door Joseph had just entered.

  “What are you doing here? Are you mad? You must leave now.”

  Firm but quiet, Philo’s tone resembled nothing of the hard man Joseph had known.

  “I came to speak with you—”

  “Go back to my daughter. ’Tis not safe for you here.”

  Joseph held Philo by the arm and pulled him to the back of the barn, where their whispered communications would be even more shielded. Chest pumping, he opened his mouth and refused to close it until all he’d come to speak had been liberated.

  “I will go back to Hannah, but not until I have the answers we seek.” He released Philo’s arm but continued to grasp the man with a stare that seemed to hold Philo motionless. “You knew I had the note. You had them pursue me, so why then come to my rescue? Why take the blame for something you didn’t do or even know about when you clearly despise me and want me nowhere near your daughter?” He stopped just enough for breath. “Philo, I have long since begged your forgiveness, as has Hannah. We did not formulate some plan behind your back. Aye, I purchased the foundry, but I did it for my own benefit and for the advancement of my skills as a blacksmith, not to lure her back to me. As for the rest, it simply happened. And I know you disapprove, but I—”