“I’m very sorry, sir.” The miserable soldier cowered under Samuel’s powerful grip.
“Get out of my sight.” Samuel shoved him away.
“Yes, sir.” Clark bowed and shot Donaldson a pitiful glance before walking away through the darkness, straightening his jacket.
“He was just following orders.” Donaldson repositioned his cloak.
“My orders were to find them—and he did not!”
“Your anger is misplaced,” Donaldson snapped, straightening and stepping forward. “Save it for Watson.”
Samuel rolled his shoulders back. That lieutenant thought he knew everything. A vile concoction of rage against Thomas and fear for Eliza mixed in his belly. “You will do well to remember your place, Donaldson. I’ve lost precious time and I will not be sent on another false errand.”
He looked up at the icy, star-dotted sky and released a foggy breath. They’d only just minutes ago returned from his fruitless journey to Salem. If he had been less impetuous, Eliza might even now be safe and wrapped in his waiting arms. He had lost his slipping grasp on reality.
Donaldson’s strong voice cracked through the frigid air. “Sir, forgive me, but if I may be so bold. Perhaps she is dead, like the doctor in Sandwich said.”
Seething, Samuel breathed fire. “You forget your place, Lieutenant.”
The sound of horse hooves pounded the frozen ground, and Samuel jerked toward the sound. Who could be here at this time of night?
Suddenly, upon recognition, Samuel stood at attention and bowed low. “Captain Curtis, ‘tis good to see you. What brings you here at this time of evening?”
Three other soldiers accompanied Curtis, sitting erect on their heaving horses and looking ominous, but Samuel could sense the weariness that drifted from them. They must have traveled straight from Providence from the look of things.
His gut rolled. What could they want with him? Surely something to keep him from his most vital task, no doubt.
Curtis leapt off his horse and strode toward Samuel. His dark eyes were fringed with shadow, and bits of white hair frayed around his face from underneath his hat.
“Martin,” he said, nodding. “I need your help.”
Samuel stiffened and his muscles twitched. Just as he’d expected. His duties would once again call him away from Eliza.
Blast! “Yes, sir. How may I be of assistance to you?”
Curtis rubbed his hands and motioned to the small building that served as Samuel’s Boston office. “My men and I are frozen. May we join you inside? I can apprise you of the details as we warm ourselves.”
“Of course.” Samuel motioned them forward. “This way.” A bit of warmth would do him good as well. He too was bone-cold and could use a few hours in front of a warm fire, if not to thaw his muscles, at least to thaw this brain.
Once inside, the fire popped with annoying gaiety, and Curtis began to reveal his purpose.
“I’ve just had word that a large political rally is appointed to take place in Sandwich three days from today. There’s a large group expected from Providence, and other surrounding areas
as well. There are only a few soldiers in the small town and they will need our help should things get out of hand. We don’t want a repeat of 1770.”
Samuel nodded and huffed. No one wanted that.
“I need you and five other men to join me there. We have soldiers from other provinces who plan to assist us as well, so we won’t be the only military present. If you make haste you can cover the miles in about two days.”
Samuel cleared his throat and kept pacing to keep from being consumed by his frustration. He’d already been to Sandwich and back. What a waste!
Curtis continued. “The leader, a man named Nathaniel Smith, has been planning this for some time now, and we hear he is anticipating an enormous crowd.”
Samuel halted and jerked his head toward Curtis. “Do you mean Doctor Nathaniel Smith?”
“Yes, the very same. Do you know him?”
“Not really, no,” Samuel said through his teeth as the doctor’s face flashed through his mind and a gurgling hatred bubbled in his stomach.