Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution

by Adair, Suzanne

  Seconds dragged by while Fairfax considered. "Monsieur, extend King George's gratitude to the people of the village for cooperating in this matter." The women in the hut returned to their tasks. "Oh, and Monsieur, I encourage you to use better judgment at translations in the future as your personal prejudice may predispose you to making enemies." Gravel and grass crunched beneath the lieutenant's retreat. Jacques spat.

  The trembling in Sophie's hands quieted. She'd expected Fairfax to open the door and look around. But, when threatened by warriors, even someone as unyielding as he couldn't help but feel the negative pressure of transgressing the cultural and sacrosanct boundary of the Moon Lodge.

  As she assessed the elements within the lodge — native women, smoky dusk, earthy smells — she reflected that Fairfax was looking for a woman who held herself apart from the Creek, not one who had removed her mobcap and let her hair riot across her shoulders and back like a "savage." They'll see only what we wish them to see, Mathias had said the night before. Would Fairfax have recognized her, had he opened the door? The British mouthed policies of protecting the natives, but they hadn't the slightest idea who the natives really were.

  Jacques tapped the door, his voice low. "Nagchoguh Hogdee."

  She rose and cracked the door open. "Are they gone?"

  "Oui."

  She opened the door several inches. Over his shoulder she took in activities in the village plaza — children scuttling a ball around in the dust with dogs chasing them, two men returning from a lake with fish, several other warriors negotiating with traders. The ordinariness of it soothed her. "Thank you."

  He inclined his head. "Your brother should arrive within the hour. Mathias will rejoin us at noon with transportation and supplies. And I have requested that Zack MacVie meet me here in the village."

  "MacVie?" She grimaced, recalling how he'd stepped on her feet at the dance to discourage her sleuthing. Then she remembered he was second-in-command for the Committee of Safety. Her zeal over the St. Augustine lead had made her overlook the potential complicity of her father's cronies in his murder. Not a one of them had stopped by to pay his condolences on Sunday. They might very well have double-crossed him. "Leave no stone unturned."

  A wicked smile twisted the Frenchman's lips. "Ask the correct way, and MacVie will volunteer information."

  She nodded. "If we go to St. Augustine, I shall need a man's hat and clothing." Jacques arched an eyebrow at her. "I shan't slow the party by riding a horse in a petticoat."

  His eyes twinkled. "You are a wanton, belle Sophie."

  She grinned. "Has it taken you thirty-three years to recognize that?"

  "Not at all."

  Chapter Nine

  FINGERS INTERLACED BEHIND his head, the hammock swaying beneath him, David contemplated flies scooting around the ceiling of the guest hut in the heat of the day. "Havana."

  Sophie gave the hammock a push. "Have you been there?"

  He regarded her with amusement. "You know I'd have told you if I'd wandered off to Havana. Now who'd have thought the old man would go to a place so exotic?"

  "Ben Franklin goes to Paris." She pushed the hammock again. "I've heard he's courted more women in Paris than there are women living in Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and New York."

  "Three cheers for old Ben. Still, Paris isn't tropical. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

  "Does that mean you want to come along?"

  "They have women, whiskey, and whist in Havana. I'm in."

  "But it isn't certain that we'll go to Havana. We'll likely go only as far as St. Augustine."

  "They have women, whiskey, and whist in St. Augustine, too."

  She smiled. David was such an uncomplicated man. "Of course, should we need to go to Havana, there's the issue of passage aboard a ship."

  "The card tables of St. Augustine are generous."

  "I didn't plan for you to subsidize the venture."

  "And how are you going to pay for it?"

  "I have some money hidden away at the house."

  Clearing his throat, he sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, your supply is now in the hands of our enterprising younger sister."

  "What?"

  "Along with Mother's garnets and the old man's doubloons and horse pistols. For safekeeping, she said."

  Anger balled Sophie's fingers into fists. "'Enterprising?' You mean 'thieving,' don't you?"

  He pushed himself out of the hammock and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Calm down. I was witness to her taking it. That way, at least you know where all of it is, and she can't claim your servant stole it." He spread his hands. "Look, you aren't an heiress sitting on a fortune. The first lesson you need to learn if you go off on this adventure is to accept the generosity of others when it's offered.

  "The second lesson you must learn is that you won't always be in control. Dash it all, you've had that printing business under your thumb your entire life. Month after month, year after year, those columns in your ledger have added up perfectly and balanced. But your debits and credits will be fouled by the time you get to St. Augustine. If you go on to Havana, forget about ever balancing anything."

  Indignation yielded to reflection, smoothing the pucker of her lips. "You think my life is boring."

  "Abysmally so."

  "I agree."

  "Then why have you been chasing the perpetuation of abysmal boredom on an estate in Hampshire?"

  She frowned. Edward's offer was the fond fancy of so many women. Why hadn't she accepted it Saturday night? "I'd be lodged in a townhouse in London, not in Hampshire."

  David rubbed his chin. "Oh. That's a different offer and a point in Hunt's favor. You wouldn't be bored in London unless his money ran out or he lost interest in you. But somehow I just don't see you in London." He took her hand and patted it. "My dear sister, you've set this ship a-sail on the open seas and given her a bearing. Let others trim the sails and tack to keep her on course. The ship will find harbor, I assure you. And don't worry about the print shop. With six brats running around, ink creates an appealing diversion for Susana right now."

  "You must be joking. She hasn't touched that press in fifteen years." But Sophie knew her absence was just the opening Susana had been waiting for.

  David's grin took a bawdy bend around the corners of his mouth. "I suspect it's like climbing in the saddle after you've been out of it awhile. Comes back to you with hardly a hitch."

  She pulled away to hide a blush. David wasn't talking about horses. Eight long years it had been for her. "What would you know about being out of the saddle?"

  "It was an intelligent guess."

  Outside the hut, they heard MacVie approaching. "Better not be wasting my time with this, Jacques. I got a fence to repair before the new hogs arrive. And that ghoul, Fairfax, is harassing me."

  Sophie caught her brother's eye. "Let me handle this."

  Jacques opened the door for the hog farmer and assumed a position just inside. MacVie removed his hat, nodded to David, and stared at Sophie. "Mrs. Barton! We heard you were kidnapped." His gaze encompassed her loose hair and the strands of beads and shells atop Two Rainbows' shirt, and his lip curled. "Perhaps something worse than kidnapped."

  She clasped hands behind her back and regarded him with a cool eye. "When was the last time you saw my father alive?"

  He looked at the ceiling and hummed several seconds before returning an indulgent smile. "Oh, nine o'clock Saturday night."

  "Where?"

  "At the dance."

  "You didn't encounter him alive after the dance was over?"

  "No." He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

  "When did you last see Jonah Hale alive?"

  "About the same time as Will, right after the dance started." His tone hardened. "Why are you asking questions?"

  "Where were you between ten Saturday night and two Sunday morning?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but I was at the dance, and then Donald, Charley, and
me had a couple rounds at Donald's house before I went home to bed. Find fault with that."

  "I will. We suspect you of complicity in my father's murder."

  His face contorted. "How dare you say that? He was my friend!" He bared teeth. "I don't care if you're his daughter. I don't owe you anything."

  She ignored his statement but not the sentiment. MacVie despised her, so she'd best watch her back. "Some friend you are. You never came by Sunday to offer condolences. Not a one of you rebels did. And you seem to have forgotten that I witnessed an argument between you and my father just before the first dance. I overheard you say to him, '...just you and Jonah, eh?' He and Jonah are now dead. Coincidence? I think not."

  "I don't have time to listen to your foolishness —"

  "I shall be blunt then. You rebels betrayed my father and Jonah Hale because you were bought out by a Spaniard known as El Serpiente."

  The momentary widening of his eyes indicated surprise and panic galloping through him. Zack MacVie, defender of the patriot cause, had been nabbed. "E-El Who?"

  "You're such a terrible liar. Two Spaniards came looking for my father at our home early Sunday. One was flayed alive on your property not long after. The other was El Serpiente." She balled her fists. "You know him."

  MacVie darted a look around the hut, his fingers clenching and unclenching. "How much of this do the bloodybacks know?"

  She smiled again. She liked seeing him off balance. "I don't owe you anything."

  "I knew it! You're a flaming Tory with a redcoat lover!"

  Of course a flaming rebel would view a neutral as a flaming Tory. "You're an ignorant, arrogant hog farmer who hasn't any sense. You fancy Lieutenant Fairfax stupid. You've no inkling of all he knows, or what he'll do to confirm his suspicions." She must have struck a nerve, for MacVie sucked in a breath, and his swarthy face paled at the mention of his favorite ghoul. "Out with it! Why did you kill my father and Jonah?"

  "I-I didn't do it." His shoulders sagged, and he hung his head. His hands shook, though whether from rage or fear she wasn't sure. "El Serpiente killed them. I had nothing to do with it. None of us did. We weren't bought out, no matter what you think."

  "Liar. Why would a Spaniard kill a rebel?"

  He jutted a sullen lip at her. "All I know is that he has his own interests in this war."

  More subterfuge. It sure looked as though they'd be chasing El Serpiente to St. Augustine. "Have you any idea where El Serpiente was headed?" MacVie shook his head in negation, but she doubted he was ignorant of the meeting in St. Augustine.

  Jacques crossed his arms high on his chest. "You claim he murdered Will and Jonah. How do you know it? Did you see their murders?"

  MacVie regarded the ceiling again. "I was coming home from Donald's house and saw flames on my property. I rode over fast, thinking a fire was spreading. That's when I saw Will tied to the stake and the Spaniards watching him burn."

  David's jaw hung slack. "Didn't you try to stop them?"

  "No. Will was already dead."

  "What about my nephew? Was he dead, too?"

  "Yes." MacVie refused to look at them. "Lying there on the ground. I figure the Spaniards got both of them."

  Sophie raised her hands, elbows bent, in a gesture of exasperation. "What were my father and Jonah doing on your property at that time of night?"

  "How should I know?"

  "Why didn't you tell the soldiers you were a witness?"

  "Oh, indeed. They know I've no love for their poxy king. They'd have charged me with the murders, just to lock me up."

  "A pleasant thought. What time did all this happen?"

  MacVie glowered at her. "One-fifteen, one-thirty."

  Her eyebrow shot up. Impossible. The Spaniards had been to her home looking for Will at one o'clock. There wasn't enough time for them to have him mostly burned at the stake by one-thirty. "Who flayed El Serpiente's partner?"

  He gulped and blanched. "I don't know. Sneaked away to my home after that so as the Spaniards didn't catch me."

  MacVie at least suspected who'd killed the other Spaniard. If any portion of his tale was true, he'd had good reason to sneak away from the gruesome site so he didn't get caught, too. Only one person in Alton made his face pale. "I'm surprised you haven't leaped to avenge the murder of your fellows."

  He pondered several seconds. "El Serpiente ain't traveling alone."

  "His accomplice was flayed alive."

  "Aye, but — but he has two others."

  From how quickly he blurted it, she knew he was lying yet again. "Oh? You saw them? Where?"

  "No. I overheard him at the murder site telling the other Spaniard where they were all going to meet and camp last night. North, he said, to discourage pursuit."

  "Ah, you speak Spanish, then?"

  Puzzled, he frowned at her while he worked out the logistics that the two Spaniards wouldn't have spoken English to each other. "Aye, a little. So you see, it ain't safe chasing him. Besides —" MacVie grew moody. "Glory ain't for everybody. Some of us got to stay behind and pick up the pieces when things go wrong."

  She acknowledged the shrewd expressions of both David and Jacques, reading in them the same suspicions she held. They'd have to bring MacVie along on the chase for El Serpiente because the farmer knew too much about them and had become a liability. Dragging an unwilling traveler with them wouldn't be fun. No, they needed to give MacVie incentive to join them.

  She allowed disgust to curl her lip. "What a coward you are. Well, Jacques, David, and I won't crawl on our bellies. We're going after El Serpiente. He has almost a two-day lead on us, so either you agree to help us catch him, or we hand you over to the local authorities. And believe me, after you milksops who call yourselves 'Patriots' allowed me to be blamed for printing those broadsides, nothing would give me more pleasure than to turn you over to the British."

  "You got nothing on me, and you know it."

  "Oh, don't I?" She took her time walking a circle around him. "Your wits are addled. Must've been from watching that Spaniard being flayed alive early yesterday morning."

  Color drained from his face, and his hands trembled again. "I d-didn't see it. I w-went along home to bed."

  "Lieutenant Fairfax would love hearing how much you know about that murder. And did you know I saw you carve the woodcut for that broadside in the pressroom Friday night?"

  "All right, all right! I'll go with you!"

  "Your change of heart gratifies me. Your primary task will be to find the site where El Serpiente camped last night with his two accomplices. We leave in an hour. Before then, you'll help gather supplies. Jacques or a Creek warrior will accompany you to make sure you don't stray from the village to warn the rest of the Committee before we go."

  "When do I get my musket and knife back?"

  "When we decide you're cooperating with us."

  "Ah, no, I'm not going on any trip with you unarmed —"

  "You do as you're told!" Apprehension bombarded her at the lethality of MacVie's glare. She lifted her chin. "Don't just stand there. Hop to it!"

  He jammed his hat on his head and stormed from the hut with Jacques following him out. David flopped into the hammock with a grunt of discontent. "He's going to be more trouble than he's worth."

  Chapter Ten

  MATHIAS ARRIVED TEN minutes later, dressed in hunting shirt and trousers, leading his horse and Jonah's gelding. While he unloaded gear outside the guest hut, Sophie noticed the grip of fatigue and grief in his expression. "Five o'clock in the morning Fairfax showed up on my doorstep! He must never sleep."

  Contempt contorted Jacques's expression. "Not the only body function he omits."

  Sophie paused from stroking Jonah's gelding to wag her finger at the Frenchman. "You've made an enemy of Fairfax."

  David's eyebrows rose. "Indeed? I'd sooner have the devil himself as my enemy."

  "You think I should fear him, eh? You were not at the Plains of Abraham, when honorable French blood ran in rivers." J
acques lifted his gnarled hands heavenward. "You did not see the jewels of Auvergny, Bretagne, and Lorraine crushed."

  That story had certainly circulated a few times. Noticing the glaze in David's eyes, Sophie nudged him to polite attention.

  "And you did not kneel beside the body of your beloved Montcalm and weep. After Quebec, David, I fear no English pig."

  "No, I don't suppose you would, Uncle Jacques."

  "And perhaps I've slid my dagger between the ribs of a few of them since the Old War, eh?"

  "I don't doubt it, Uncle Jacques."

  "My hand itched to do the same this morning." Jacques mimicked Fairfax's accent and carriage. "'Mr. Hale, if you suspected the savages' plans in advance, why did you not inform us of it?'"

  Mathias straightened. "Stop stomping it into the ground."

  David tongued a piece of straw. "You have to admit the redcoats asked enough questions at the funerals this morning to become annoying." He patted the gelding. "Didn't you attract attention by fetching Jonah's horse and all this gear?"

  "Samson's been in my stable since Saturday afternoon, when Jonah brought him to me to replace a shoe."

  Jacques eyed his nephew with skepticism. "How do you know you were not followed out here?"

  "I didn't leave with both horses at the same time, and I took an indirect route."

  "Good." Jacques's nod was curt. "As soon as we divide the gear and supplies, we are leaving with MacVie."

  Mathias stared at David and Jacques. "Zack MacVie? You're going somewhere with that patriot pustule? Where?"

  Samson nosed Sophie, and she continued stroking his neck. He'd be a good traveling horse. "I decoded the cipher. My father was to have ridden to St. Augustine, presumably to speak with Don Alejandro de Gálvez on behalf of the rebels." Shock hiked Mathias's eyebrows an inch. "Yesterday evening, I intercepted another message warning him that someone called El Serpiente knew of the mission, so the meeting had to be diverted to Havana."

  "Havana?" He shoved a tinderbox back into a sack. "What danger makes a sea voyage to Cuba desirable?"