So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  She glanced around again and lowered her voice. “I am looking for Captain Samuel Martin.”

  Paul’s head tilted, an unmistakable knowing in his eyes. “Samuel Martin.”

  “Aye. Do you know him?” For a moment the possibility of her deepest hopes breathing back to life stopped the very blood in her veins.

  “I knew him.” Paul’s mouth tightened. “I’m sorry to say he’s passed on.”

  Frozen, Anna stared, allowing the words to fall into the holes that waited to receive them. She breathed deeply to coax the blood to move again. So. He was dead. A coffin lid slammed shut in her mind as she buried forever the dream she’d clung to. ’Twas a foolish thing to even consider the report had been false. She met Paul’s gaze. “Do you know how he died?”

  “I’m afraid I do not.” His long face expressed more emotions than Anna could clearly detect. The softening of his eyes suggested compassion. However, the tightness of his mouth made her re-examine her decision to confide in him.

  She glanced to the crowd of soldiers not twenty feet away. “Is there no one else? I understand Captain Martin served under your father, and I’d hoped—”

  “You needn’t speak with my father.”

  Startled by his sharp reply, Anna took a step back and prepared to answer, but he continued without pause.

  “There isn’t much anyone knows about what happened to Martin.” He glanced away, eyes squinted, as if he struggled to recall a memory. “He died outside of Boston, it seems to me. But no one else was there to—”

  He stopped cold, his eyes suddenly round and motionless.

  Anna leaned forward. “Captain?”

  “Forgive me.” He shook his head and touched her elbow, nudging her farther away from the group. “I have remembered something that may be of use to you.”

  “You have?” She clutched the bag harder. “Sir, I will do anything that must be done to discover what happened to him. Please tell me what you know.”

  He nodded lightly then looked directly into her eyes. “I cannot tell more, because I know nothing more. But I do know someone who does.”

  ~~~

  The beautiful, mysterious woman gazed at Paul with wide, pleading eyes. The way she stared up at him, hands clasped at her stomach and forehead creased, reminded him of a poor street urchin. And she might have been, from the way she was dressed. The gray petticoat she wore, frayed at the bottom and stained, looked as though it should have been discarded long ago. That is, if she had anything else to wear. And yet, her hair wasn’t matted and she smelled clean, unlike the sorry lot that littered the streets. What relationship had she had with Martin that created in her such a need to know the story of his death? Who was she?

  He studied her face. Lovely, no doubt of it. Black hair, gentle features and cool blue eyes. Aye. This kind of woman would have suited Martin’s tastes. Perhaps she’d been a favorite of his? Perhaps she’d had his child…Nay. Martin had talked of a young woman he’d loved and hoped to marry. He’d never been one to use women the way so many other soldiers did. Paul tossed the theory away and focused his energy on the plan that unfolded within him.

  Forcing as much tenderness to his features as he could muster, he took a step closer. His soul was still raw from the lashing he’d endured from his father only minutes past, but the wounds urged him to fight on, not abandon the irrepressible need to find the man who’d flaunted his abilities and skills, ensuring his father would find pride in one and not the other.

  The scheme that had sprung to life was nothing short of sheer brilliance. Donaldson had been the only other soldier there when Martin had died. And here, with this pleading woman, perhaps Paul could reach Barrik after all—and thereby, capture the man whose life he would end.

  Using the well-toned charm he’d perfected over the few, but productive years of his career, Paul lowered his tone and stepped an inch closer. “I am well acquainted with the man you must find. He was there the night of Captain Martin’s death and was privy to all that transpired.”

  Her crystalline eyes widened and her gentle smile stretched across her face. In a near breathless voice, she pleaded. “Please, sir, tell me where I may find this man. Is he here, in New York?”

  Paul opened his mouth then snapped it shut and glanced around him. The regulars crowded on the street would more likely dull their hearing than strain to glean his words, but he couldn’t take the risk. Offering his arm once again, he motioned up the road.

  She hesitated before offering a tentative bob of her head and took his arm once more.

  He sighed before speaking. “This conflict with the colonies has been difficult on us all.” He gave her a quick glance, but her gaze was on the road ahead. “Many soldiers are deserting their posts, leaving that which is right and honorable to feed upon the slop of liberty the colonies fling from every direction.”

  At this the woman peered at him briefly, her dainty eyebrows folded in question, but she said nothing.

  He exhaled before continuing. “Henry Donaldson is one of those men.” Speaking his name heated the resentment that simmered deep within. “For several years now he has aided the colonists in resisting the king’s benevolent hand. He has at last run from us, fearing he will be punished for his actions.” Paul stopped walking at the corner, grateful for the sudden calm in the road. The summer heat blistered his back as the unadulterated rage for his enemy did the same to his stomach. He took a calming breath to mask every emotion but sincerity. “But that is untrue. He is simply misguided. We only wish to speak with him and help him find the error of his ways.”

  At this Miss Whitehead pulled her hand from his arm and looked away, her lips pressed tight. Did she not believe him? He chewed the inside of his cheek. The lie was plain, but such a woman could not be acquainted enough with the ways of war to understand what kind of punishment awaited anyone who deserted. He could only hope that adding more cushion to his report would soften whatever it was that made her question him.

  “He was Samuel’s good friend,” Paul continued, “and I know that he would be most glad to tell you what he knows, if only we could find him.”

  She stayed silent for a moment, keeping her expression from his view. “So, the man I must find is missing. And is there no one else?” At this she turned to face him, her expression firm.

  “I am afraid there is not.”

  “There must be a way…” The rest of her words trailed off.

  Had she said what he thought? He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”

  She faced him fully and straightened her posture. “I said there must be some way to find him, is there not? Surely you have tried?”

  He looked down at his boots, not needing to feign the blast of anger that rushed up his back. “We have.” He paused and looked up. “Perhaps if you would…forgive me, I should not suggest such a thing.”

  “Pray continue.” She raised a hand. “You must know how desperate I am. If there is anything I can do to help, I wish to know.”

  Paul nodded and studied her face, giving just enough silence to imply he still struggled with the suggestion. “Perhaps you would like to help us in our search?”

  “How?”

  “I know a man staying at the Rockport Inn, five miles south of Providence.” He pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Give him this and tell him you are assisting the army in appreh—I mean, rescuing Henry Donaldson.”

  “Rescuing?”

  “Aye, do not all misguided souls need rescuing?”

  Again her expression darkened, as if she were not fully convinced. “How will I know the man when I see him? Can you tell me his name?”

  Paul shook his head. “That I cannot do. There is much of secrecy and spying and those of us who play such games must keep the upper hand.”

  She turned away again and Paul held his breath. Would she take the bait? The miracle in finding this stranger to help in his cause could only be an act of God—the very confirmation he needed that
his father was wrong.

  The woman circled her finger against the bag in her hand. She then touched the ring that rested against her chest and pulled her lip between her teeth.

  Stemming the desire to speak further, his gut knotted with anxiety. Say yes.

  Suddenly she turned to him. The set of her feminine jaw and the confidence in her eyes struck him like a cool breeze.

  “I shall do it and I should like to leave immediately.”

  He bowed, holding his exuberance behind a wide smile. “Allow me to hire you a carriage.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  A second full day of travel with hours upon hours of bumping and jostling. Anna leaned back against the worn cushion of the carriage and peered out the open window wondering, not for the first time, how it was that she’d come to be traveling alone. Strange, was it not? Yesterday’s carriage had been so jammed with travelers she’d come to know her companions far more intimately than she ever would have wished. She snickered to herself, remembering the young mother and child who sat beside her on one side and the ancient man on the other, hips and elbows so near it seemed as if she could feel the other’s bones against her own. Not to mention the three others opposite them. How they had all managed to fit, she still couldn’t fathom. Anna rested her bag beside her and took a long inhale of air void of the perfumes and body odors that pervaded the previous day’s journey. So this was how the other classes traveled. She’d never known anything but a fine carriage of her own. There was much of the world she had yet to understand, but this adventure was tallying her daily lessons at a rapid pace.

  Anna reached her legs out and circled her ankles, relishing in her quiet little cocoon, when the peace of it began to crack as if the subconscious parts of her struggled to bump free. Why was she alone? She dropped her feet back down as her muscles went taut. Surely she couldn’t be the only person on their way to Providence. Then again, perhaps she was simply lucky to have left at a time when no others were prepared to travel. That was a possibility, was it not? She peered out the window at the passing trees, attempting to dispel the niggling worry. Perhaps her concerns were futile. Her energies should be put to far better use in considering the blessing of an empty carriage and giving thanks for it.

  She propped her elbow on the small notch beside the window and rested her chin in her hand, studying the landscape as it passed, like an adventurer discovering a new world for the first time. She smiled to herself, for that’s what she was—or at least what she felt like. A gigantic tree loomed, and she stuck her head out the open window to grasp the scope of it as it passed. She gasped in awe at the expanse of towering branches, a covering of green leaves the hue of which she’d never seen.

  With a huff of amazement, she leaned back in but didn’t take her eyes from the landscape. How majestic it was. So wild, so inviting. In all her travels she hadn’t seen anything so free. Not that she hadn’t experienced untamed lands in the travels she had taken throughout Europe, but there was something different here. Something in the colors and the scent of the air, as if the sentiments of those who called it home seeped into the very soil on which they tread. More, perhaps the liberty she felt in her solitude—traveling alone, following her heart—made the beauty in her surroundings that much more enchanting.

  She reached over and touched the bag when her mind went back to Edwin. Heaven be praised for God’s tender mercies, for He alone knew how much longer she could have endured such a life. Her mind trailed away, backward into the black, not-yet-receded memories. Glittering Paris halls, women caked in powder, perfume and smoke stifling the air while men and women, drunk on their own pride, nursed overpriced wines in goblets trimmed with gold. She rubbed her head and her face began to coil as the painful memories flooded from the dark place she’d shoved them.

  A rustle in the bushes beside the road snapped her back to the present. A doe and her two fawns leaped from their hiding place beside the road and raced to the freedom of the wood. Once again away from the shadowed past, she forced herself to remain in the empty carriage and enjoy the surrounding beauty, not retreat back to the days of old. That life was no more. Her dreams of joy were within her grasp. No matter how poor or how desolate she lived, she would have joy, so long as she could choose her own future. She stared again out the window, then looked to the bag beside her. Once the truth of her brother’s death was revealed, then and only then would she have the overwhelming serenity she craved.

  Captain Stockton’s numerous instructions replayed in her mind like a motherly list of to-do’s. Make it as far into Connecticut as you are able the first day before securing a room at an inn. Make the trip in two days if possible. You will find the man who needs the note at the Rockport Inn in Providence. He is always the tallest in the room. You would be hard pressed to miss him.

  She pulled the note from her pocket and ran her fingers over the top of it. Curiosity pricked and she was helpless to curb the desire to read the secretive note. She peeled apart the folds with tentative care and read.

  Find Captain Henry Donaldson and a large reward will be yours. Bring him to me. Alive.

  P.S.

  She scoffed and folded the paper back together before tucking it next to Samuel’s likeness in her Bible. A deserter. Was that all? Somehow she’d expected to discover something truly scandalous, though indeed desertion was no small crime. Anna leaned forward and rubbed the ache that began to inch through her head. She prayed the man had good reason to leave his post. For what little she did know about the army, she understood well that no matter what befell a man, leaving his company for any reason was met with exacting punishment. Her brother would have done the same as Captain Stockton. Bring him in, certainly, and make him pay his due. She could only hope the captain would be as lenient as he stated, but she wasn’t a fool as she’d allowed the man to believe. She was willing to help locate the fellow for her own reasons, but believing this Henry Donaldson would be treated as merely “misguided” was laughable. War was a terrible thing. For everyone.

  “Whoa!”

  The carriage jerked to a halt. Quickly, Anna replaced the likeness in the Bible and stuffed it in her bag.

  She peered out the window. “Is everything all right?”

  “Aye, miss.” The driver got down and spoke to her without looking in. “Got to check the horses.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “You are free to get out and stretch your legs if’n you like.”

  The mere thought of it made her limbs twitch with the need to straighten. Tightening the strings of her bag and clutching it against her lap, she waited. After a moment, Anna scowled and peeked out the window. The driver would not expect her to open the door for herself would he? She unlatched the door and peered both directions. Well, apparently he would. Was this what it felt like to be of such low status? No one to help you, no one to even assist you in exiting a carriage? Of course, she’d hoped to be seen of low status when she’d taken the tattered dress and left all her worldly goods in England. She glanced at her clothes again, almost grinning to herself. You wanted a new life, Anna, and here you have it.

  She pushed the door open, feeling as if she’d stepped into a new world, one with less confinement and more power. Her spirit lifted and somehow she could breathe deeper. Once outside the carriage she walked around the back of the large wheels to reach her arms wide without being seen engaging in such unladylike behavior. She couldn’t stem the grin that widened her mouth as she gazed at the sky, stretching her arms. When had she ever felt so uninhibited? Edwin would have been horrified to see her so recklessly ignoring propriety.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  Anna jumped and twirled. “Aye?”

  “Forgive me, I…” Mouth parted, eyes scanning her head to foot, the driver stared breathlessly. “Forgive me. You look so much like your mother. I nearly called you Catanna.”

  Anna’s heart lurched at the sound of her mother’s name. “I beg your pardon?” She stepped back and pressed a hand to
her chest. When she next spoke her voice was so low she hardly recognized the sound of it. “Who are you?”

  He moved toward her, hand extended. “Do not be alarmed, I beg you. I simply…” His brow furrowed. “You don’t remember me.”

  “Why should I?” The man took another step forward, and Anna hurried backward, bumping into the wheel behind her. “Get away from me.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  Despite the sincerity in his soft eyes, Anna’s breath came in and out in short bursts. “Then tell me who you are and how you knew my mother.”

  The man opened his mouth, then closed it and rocked his jaw back and forth. His gaze lowered to her necklace then moved back up to her eyes. “That I cannot tell you.” He continued toward her and Anna’s pulse jumped.

  “You will not?” She hurried around the other side of the carriage, the stranger at her heels. “That is fine. I wish to continue to Providence.” She opened the carriage door, trying to keep her quivering fingers from revealing her fear. “I will overlook this upsetting interlude if we continue immediately.”

  He grabbed her arm. “You do not belong here, Anna.”

  “How do you know my name?” Fear cascaded through her, blood leaving her head and limbs yet pulsing wildly at the same moment. “Let go of me!”

  She struggled against his grasp, but he held firm. “I would see you returned to England where you will have safety and security.”

  Nay! The truth knocked her so hard she nearly choked from the impact. “My father sent you.” Her blood chilled.

  Without releasing his hold, the man’s gentle tone mirrored the pleading in his eyes. “’Tis only the best he seeks for you. Though I understand why you have run, you cannot know what calamities await you here. ’Tis folly to believe—”

  “Nay!” ’Twas then his eyes took their place in her memory, and she gasped. He was the one she had seen from the window of the officer’s house. Father had known she would leave. He’d sent this man to collect her, but never would she let him claim the prize.