“That will be sufficient.” Samuel’s impatience mounted higher.
The woman put a hand on her large hip and turned to leave.
“And as I said—” Samuel stopped her with his comment and she turned back. “We’ll be needing a room for the night.”
“I heard you the first time,” she snapped. “You’re in luck. We’ve only one room left, but it’s yours for the customary price.”
Donaldson turned to her as she marched away. “Thank you.”
Samuel leaned forward. “Don’t thank her. You’re a soldier. She should be thanking us for what we sacrifice for selfish colonists like her.”
Reclining in the chair, Donaldson played with a bent fork that lay on the rough-hewn table. His lips tightened. “Did your mother never teach you about etiquette? She looked like she could use a kind word. I’m simply glad to be in a warm place, awaiting a warm meal, and a warm bed. That is all.”
“Well, don’t get used to it.” Samuel rubbed his aching knee. “It’s only for one night. We’ll be on the road again in the early morning.”
His companion poked the fork into the wood as his jaw muscles flinched. “Aye, Captain.”
At that moment the wrinkled woman tottered over to them with two large chargers overflowing with a sumptuous spread, each topped with a thick slice of bread.
Samuel hadn’t realized how ravenous he was until the smell of the juicy meal made him salivate.
He peered at Donaldson whose eyes were as large as the chargers themselves.
The innkeeper plunked the plates down. “I’ll be back with a jug of ale for you.”
The two of them devoured the delicious food as if it was the first meal they’d ever eaten. And their last.
Samuel was so consumed by his need to eat that he almost didn’t notice the man who staggered through the door.
“Greetings, Lee,” the innkeeper said, stepping away from the large fire in the back of the room. She wiped her hands on her stained apron.
“Good evening, Mrs. Langdon.”
“Where’s Roy?” she asked.
The fat fellow looked around the room and put a hand to his jaw.
Samuel swallowed his bite and rested his fork.
“He’s, uh, he’s not here.”
He sat at an empty table. The innkeeper poured him a large mug of ale. He gulped with greedy pleasure then used his hand to dab his mouth.
“Truth be told, we ran into a few pretties a while back and . . .” The sailor looked around the room again. He locked eyes with Samuel and stopped talking. Casting his gaze back to Mrs. Langdon, he took another long drag out of his mug. “He’s already at the wharf.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. She looked at Samuel, then back to the sailor.
“I see.”
She went back to her chores by the fire, before seeing to the few other patrons scattered through the small room.
A few pretties? Samuel’s pulse began to race. Could he have seen Eliza?
Samuel shook his head at the foolish thought and took another bite of food. Of course not. The low-life could be referring to any number of women.
Samuel took a swig of drink and gazed back at the sailor who leaned into the long table where he sat.
What am I thinking? I have to question him. Samuel had promised to explore every avenue, every path that could possibly lead him to his love. Eliza was in danger. She needed him to save her, to bring her home. He could only imagine the horrors she was being forced to endure. No doubt she prayed night and day for him to rescue her. It may be a gamble, but he had nothing to lose.