So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom 4)

Stockton neared, that sticky sweetness in his face still present, still loathsome. “Do forgive me, but I’ve just remembered something.” He gestured to his cloak, and she offered it to him.

She stepped back to allow him room, and he reached for the inner pocket. A scowl clawed his brow, and he spread the garment wide, flapping it twice.

“Is something…” High-pitched and tense, the voice coming from her throat sounded nothing like her own. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Is something wrong?”

He threw a pinched glance her way, then back to the cloak. “Nay. It seems…it seems I’ve misplaced something, is all.”

“Oh, I see.” She stepped back, turning casually, praying God would enhance her playacting to its fullest. “Dear me!” She bent and picked up the article, handing it to him innocently. “Is this it?”

A bright flash of relief lit his eyes before formality and business replaced it. “Thank you, Miss Young.”

“How fortunate it fell to the ground and not into the water.” The laugh she let out carried a heavy lilt of freed anxiety, but from the smile he offered, he heard naught of it.

“I shall find a way to repay you, Miss Young. You have saved me, I daresay.”

“’Tis nothing, sir.” No doubt her cheeks were red, for they burned, and not from shy embarrassment, as Stockton’s satisfied smile professed.

Bowing, he took the paper and replaced the cloak beside the basin. “I shall leave you to your work.” But before he left, he whispered, “We shall have a bit of time to ourselves before the day is over.”

Hannah gripped the edge of the workspace where the basin rested, her fingernails biting into the wood. Smiling, she nodded, her mind scattering like a panicked crowd. She turned away and stared into the dark water. Pulling in long drinks of air, she waited for her pulse to calm and the blood once more to return to her numb limbs. But it did not.

The gravity of what she’d just learned weighed upon her so heavy her shoulders began a slow, pulsing ache. She had to get this message to Joseph—he had to deliver both his secret knowledge and hers.

Sighing, she spoke another silent prayer, invoking the powers of heaven to work on her behalf. She would have to leave in a matter of minutes if she were to catch Joseph in time. A quick glance to the parlor grounded her fledgling hope. The two sat in chairs, Stockton all but lounging while Reece sat with elbows on his knees.

Hannah closed her eyes, praying as she had not prayed before.

Chapter Thirteen

The hollow stump was a half mile out of town at the edge of the wood, Nathaniel had told him. Leave your missive stuffed deep in the left corner. Another man will check it each day after sunset.

Only partway through town, Joseph’s legs itched to tap Anvil’s flank and race to his destination, the message almost smoking from its hiding spot in his pocket. Keeping his spine relaxed and his smile easy took more strength than he’d thought. Would to God that Hannah would not have to harbor any such secrets. The thought of her enduring this harrowing anxiety made his stomach turn. Let him do the spying. And him alone.

He’d like to have this over and done, though checking on the availability of coal and supplies would be his first stop.

Anvil nickered, and Joseph patted his neck, nodding at a man who walked past. His fleeting inquisitive glance made Joseph sit taller and call himself the fool that he was. Traveling midday might be necessary, but it certainly was not prudent. Praise heaven there were only a few townspeople about, thanks in most part to the stinging cold, no doubt.

Joseph tugged Anvil to a stop and dismounted in front of the mercantile, securing his reins to the post. A chuckle bubbled through him at Anvil’s wayward expression. “I know ’tis cold. I won’t be long.”

Ducking into the building, the pungent scents of mace and clove swirled in the air, tickling his nose. He closed the door behind him and dodged a row of baskets hanging from a rope that spanned the length of the room. Pausing, he grinned at the laden but organized shelves of wares. The aligned jars of soaps, polished crocks, and lines of thread and cloth pried open his heart, tucking in the open space a melancholy homesickness. His blacksmith shop had been just as tidy, just as strictly arranged. But he was never going back, though every hour that passed seemed to censure what once he called wisdom. Leo might have been qualified, but did he love the work as Joseph did? More, could Joseph endure Hannah’s presence day after day when the war was over? He tossed the invading thought away and continued to peruse the empty shop, still void of its proprietor.

Joseph glanced to a row of children’s toys and baubles, that unsettling melancholy pressing deeper. He stopped and fingered a cup and ball that resembled almost exactly the one he’d crafted for Jacob so many years ago. How did the boy fare? Had his smile begun to broaden under Kitty’s care? He upbraided himself. Next time he came to town, he’d be sure to have a letter prepared.

“Welcome, sir. May I help you?”

Joseph spun on his heel, a ready smile on his lips. “Good day. I am looking for—”

“Forgive me—is that your horse?”

Following his gaze to the large window, Joseph’s body clenched. A pair of Redcoats were stopped beside Anvil, untying h

is reins.

Bolting, Joseph burst through the door, careful not to allow his rage to hurl him unwittingly into prison, or worse.

“Gentlemen?” His neck corded as he strained to keep his voice even. “May I ask where you’re taking my horse?”

The soldiers turned to him, mouths tight and eyes hard. The tallest spoke first, rampant disdain riding his words. “We’ve been instructed to check any and all mounts for hidden documents and missives.”