So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom 4)

Reece bobbed his head and stepped out of Joseph’s shadow. “Aye, sir.”

“Make yourself useful to Pryer.”

After a shallow bow, Reece finished the last ten feet through the wood, leaving Joseph to fight his need to destroy the enemy without the company of one whose obvious innocence might stay his hand.

But even without Reece, Joseph knew he couldn’t retaliate. There were far too many others, and he’d be too quickly overtaken.

Failure was a bitter reward for all he and Hannah had done. Their work was discovered, their message thwarted, and now, without God’s intervention, their very lives would be ended.

“I’m glad you’ve come.” Greene yanked on his arm and led him toward the yard where Reece had gone. “I may have been banished, but it served my purposes well. I have never stopped trying to discover who it was that was feeding messages to the Patriots. Seeing your cousin in Sandwich with known rebels was enough to solidify my suspicions. I knew you two were never to be trusted.”

Did he mean Caroline? Joseph’s hands ached from clenching. Had Hannah known she’d been seen?

Once out of the trees, Greene shoved Joseph forward and pointed a rigid arm toward a soldier who stood in front of the barn across the yard. “You there!”

The soldier jogged forward. “Aye, sir?”

“Tie this man. Find a place for him inside while we wait for Stockton to arrive.”

“Aye, sir.” The man who grabbed Joseph’s hands could not have been more than twenty. Tall and lanky, the soldier’s cold fingers circled around Joseph’s wrists and brought them around the back of him, tying the rough rope hard enough to slow the flow of blood.

Yanked at the elbow, Joseph stumbled toward the house. Oh dear Lord, no. Joseph had to hold his teeth together to keep his anger from thundering free. There, in the center of the yard, lined with three other bodies, was Willis, eyes open, a gaping hole in his chest.

Joseph flung his vision to the other bodies, praying he wouldn’t find the faces of any others he knew, but the soldier shoved him into the house before he could place them. “Come on.”

Too pleased with his occupation, the soldier pointed to the small chair Joseph had occupied when he and Hannah had first visited—when Willis had been vibrant and fearless.

“Stay there.”

The soldier marched out the open door and began throwing questions to the others, but Joseph dulled his hearing. Willis. What had happened?

His legs began to numb as a horror consumed him. Once the note in his pocket was discovered, he and Hannah would be accused of treason.

He scrunched

his eyes and growled. If only he could break these bands. The rage pulsing through him no doubt gave him enough strength, but what then? What would happen to Hannah if he were to flee? He could not leave her at the mercy of the enemy. My darling, forgive me.

They had been so close.

If only God would grant one last blessing—one last miracle. But the flame of Joseph’s hope for such a thing was snuffed by this last drop of irony.

The one who had wished them apart so long ago, the one who they’d believed would never harm them again, had been the one to press his bootheel in their future. Philo had won.

“Where is he?” Stockton’s unmistakable thundering shook the walls of the cabin seconds before he burst through the door. “Aw, Mr. Joseph Young.”

Joseph steeled himself against the incoming attack, refusing to retreat inwardly or out. A cold thread knit through him, and he clung to it as Stockton loomed beside his chair.

Deny.

“It seems you have been caught.” Stockton tsked and shook his head. “A shame. I rather liked you.”

The rake of hate in Stockton’s black stare cut a path up Joseph’s chest. God, spare Hannah. Do not let her suffer this man’s vengeance.

Wiggling his fingers to lure even a tiny stream of blood to his stinging fingers, Joseph locked his stare to Stockton’s. “You must believe me. You have the wrong man.”

“I should like to believe that.” The muscles at Stockton’s mouth curled. “But to think you would actually believe I would accept your word—the word of one who has lied to me from the beginning.”

“Lied to you?”