The Raider (Montgomery/Taggert 9)

“Would…would you be sorry if I weren’t here any longer?”

She hesitated. “Why yes, I believe I would be. You’ve caused me a lot of problems, but you’ve really been a friend to me and my family. I was pretty mad but, when I look back on it, you really did save me the day they burned the Mary Catherine. I might have done something that could have been somewhat foolish.”

Alex raised one eyebrow. “Somewhat. Yes.”

“Are you feeling stronger?”

“Much,” he sighed, snuggling his head against her breast.

“Alex, ah…I’m not sure this is what Eleanor had in mind. I need to go to work.”

“Yes, of course,” he said weakly, releasing her. “I understand. I’ll just stay here alone until someone remembers me and brings me food.”

“I’ll tell Eleanor as I leave,” she said, straightening her clothes.

“She won’t be here this early.”

“I guess not. I’ll tell her at home. I have to get my nets.”

“What do a few more hours of hunger make to one so close to death?” He rolled his head to one side.

Jessica sighed. “Maybe there’s something left over in the kitchen. I’ll see.”

She brought back cold chicken and bread and cheese, watered wine, and hard-boiled eggs. She put the platter beside Alex and started to leave, but he couldn’t seem to reach anything by himself. Minutes later she found herself sitting cross-legged beside him and eating as heartily as he was. She began to tell him of her ideas for distributing handbills to the people of Warbrooke.

“We can’t let this oppression continue,” she said adamantly.

“And your Raider refuses to help? I assume you asked him.”

Jess found herself telling him about everything except their lovemaking.

“You said he was angry. Why?”

Her eyes flashed. “I listen to you too much. I told him he was incompetent.”

“In those words?”

“More or less,” she said, blushing at the memory of her actual words. “He’s not happy with me now. I may never see him again.”

Alex squeezed her hand for a moment. “If he’s smart, he’ll come back.”

She smiled at him, then glanced at the sun coming through the shutters. “I have to go. I’ll miss all the fish.” She set the crumb-covered platter on Alex’s desk, then paused and, on impulse, kissed his forehead. “Thanks for all you’ve done and thanks for listening to me. I’ll tell Eleanor to let you rest.”

He smiled at her in such a way that she stared at him for a moment.

“You know, Alex, you don’t look half-bad like that. When we find you a bride, we’ll have to let her see you in bed. Rest now,” she said and left the room.

Alex leaned back on the pillows and laughed. “Jealous, Raider?” he said aloud. “You ought to be. She never talked to you like that.” He tossed the wig on the floor and settled down to sleep, a smile still on his lips.

Chapter Twelve

WHEN there was no sign of the Raider immediately after Admiral Westmoreland’s arrival, and the town cowed so easily at the sight of the English troops, the admiral began to relax. He enjoyed the sight of the people looking at their feet, their eyes angry but not daring to contradict him. He even began to brag. He told anyone within hearing distance that all that was needed was an iron fist.

Thus, he was unprepared for the Raider’s next appearance.

The townspeople were wakened at dawn by the ringing of the big bell on the end of the Montgomery house that signaled danger. The bell had once been used to warn of Indians but now heralded fires and other disasters.

Men and woman, in various states of dress, came running from their houses. They called to each other, “What is it? What’s happened?”