His jaw threatened to crack from clenching. He would remain kind to her, as was his nature. Make her laugh, make her smile, meet her needs—above all, keep her safe. But to fall in love? Nay. That could not be done.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A flash of approaching red amongst the colored autumn foliage slowed Paul’s step. He dashed behind a tree and watched from the safety of the wood. He’d overheard during last night’s meal at the patriot’s tavern the rumors of smuggling in the wood beside the creek. But as he had not seen Donaldson nor heard tell of anyone that might possibly be him, Providence would be the next place for his search. He had to be close. Paul’s limbs buzzed. The proximity of the troops was doubtless a sign. For where there were redcoats, there would surely be patriots. And where there were patriots, there Donaldson might be found.
“We’ve been searching for half an hour already. He’s gone, Pryer.”
Pryer? Paul squinted to see past the canopy of colorful branches that blocked his view. That shock of bright yellow hair confirmed what he thought. Mark Pryer. He knew him well.
“He was here, I swear it.” Pryer looked behind. “Give me another moment, then I shall return to camp.”
“Fine then. But don’t be long.” The other soldier withdrew, leaving Pryer alone.
When the lone redcoat passed only five feet from his hiding place, Paul stepped from behind the tree. “Lieutenant Pryer?”
The soldier halted and reached for his pistol, face rigid then instantly calm with recognition. “Captain Stockton.” He stood straight and replaced the gun at his side. “Forgive me, sir, I did not see you.” Questions gave rise to lines around his eyes as he studied Paul’s state of dress. “Why are you here sir, and without uniform?”
“I am on assignment.” The answer seemed to satisfy his old companion-in-arms.
Pryer relaxed his posture. “Fortunate you are. We’re to pick fleas from a dog’s back.” He laughed. “Patriots are a destructive and elusive nuisance.”
“How many have you found?”
“Smuggling? None.” He pointed from where he came. “Just nearly apprehended one, but ’twas left empty handed.” He sneered. “Did find a lovely pair of lips I would have liked to sample though.”
Paul shook his head. Pryer’s need for women made him both weak and a second-class soldier. “What do you mean you nearly apprehended one?”
“Been trailing a boy for some time, convinced he was preparing to exchange goods.” Pryer gripped both hands on the muzzle of his gun and leaned against it. “But I lost him and found only a farmer and his wife.”
“You lost him?” Predictable. Paul resisted the urge to growl. And his father found reason to scold him when scores of soldiers were disgustingly inept. “Did you not think to follow them?”
Mouth pinched and quirked at one end, Pryer lifted one shoulder. “A fool’s errand. Those ignoramuses can waste their efforts all they like, as far as I’m concerned. Our energies are better spent blasting away at those rebels on the hill then stopping something that won’t make a hint of difference even if they can get goods into the city.”
Paul rubbed his jaw and breathed hard through his nose. A false sentiment shared by many. Every effort must and should be made to end any act of rebellion before too many soldiers were forced to risk their lives in a civil war.
“On your way back then?” Paul turned to look toward Sandwich. “Any soldiers stationed in town?”
“A few I suspect, but I’ve just come from Providence, so I don’t know the particulars here.” He straightened and his expression folded with disgust. “I do know ’tis a hotbed of patriotic sentiment, but they’re as trivial as all the rest.”
“Did you—” A streak of color and a rustle of leaves made Paul jerk. He looked to Pryer, whose eyes were trained on a swaying branch. “Your lost boy perhaps?”
Pryer’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his musket. He motioned forward with a quick lift of the chin, but Paul pressed his hand against Pryer’s chest. He shook his head and pointed to a strip of white beside a bush of dried leaves not a stone’s throw to the right.
He mouthed, “Shoot.”
Raising the weapon, Pryer yelled. “Show yourself!”
Nothing. Not even the slightest movement.
Pryer tried again, louder. “Show yourself, patriot.”
Paul’s patience snapped. “Just shoot him.”
“I will not shoot if I don’t know who it is.”
“What kind of soldier are you?” Paul ripped a pistol from his side and aimed at the motionless spot of fabric. “Come forward, or I will shoot.”
No response.