The tender concern in his eyes stroked Kitty’s ever-growing fears when he continued. “Sir, forgive me, this is your prisoner?”
The stout man bobbed his chin. “Hard to believe the patriots would send a woman to do their work.”
Henry pulled his shoulders back and widened his stance. “Sir, if I may, I believe a mistake has been made. I have known this woman for—”
“You know this woman?”
Kitty clutched her stomacher, praying with every intake of breath. Surely Henry knew what he was doing. She pleaded with him through her eyes, but he stared only at his superior.
“Aye.” Henry’s fingers curled and uncurled. His tone darkened. “I’ve known Miss Campbell for some time and I know she would never betray King George.” He turned to her and cupped her elbow. “Are you hurt?”
“Do not touch her!” Stockton roared and stomped forward, turning to speak to Kitty in the next breath. “If you are a Tory as he claims, then what, pray tell, were you doing traveling all alone in a storm such as this?”
Kitty swallowed and prayed God would steady her voice. “As I said, sir, I was on my way to visit my grandmother and—”
“Ha!” Stockton bellowed.
She flung a worried look to Donaldson, but his stoic expression remained unchanged. He must know she lied, and yet he cared not. God bless him!
Stockton rounded back to his desk and pulled open a small drawer to retrieve a long white pipe. “No respectable woman travels alone.” He fiddled with it in his fingers. “You are a fool to think we’d believe such a story. That is of course, unless you are not a respectable woman.” His tone quieted, making Kitty’s ears ring as if he’d screamed. He neared, his sour breath searing her face as he spoke only inches from her. “I know you have it. And you will give it to me.”
He glared before stepping back and sighing with the hint of a smile. “Tell me the name of the rebel leader who gave you the note and I shall consider releasing you.”
Donaldson stepped forward, gripping the hilt of the sword at his side. “Sir, I will vouch for Miss Campbell’s honor, she is not—”
Stockton’s arm sliced the air. “Another word from you, Donaldson, and I’ll remove you from your post!” He stared at Kitty. “I know you are a patriot courier, Miss Campbell, and you shall be my prisoner until you develop enough wisdom to surrender the note into my hands.” He neared. “If you choose not to comply, I will come searching for it.”
She threw a frantic glance at Henry who gave a nearly imperceptible nod and took a step in front of her. “Sir, if you will allow me, I should be happy to oversee her imprisonment while in this camp.”
Stockton’s glare thinned and his eye twitched again. Only his gaze bobbed up to Henry then back to her. “I shall give you one last chance. Give me the note, or you will be a permanent fixture to our little encampment.” The foul smell of bitter tobacco on his breath burned her nose almost as much as his words burned through her remaining resolve.
Her knees shook. She couldn’t stay here. She had to get to Plymouth. “Sir, I speak the truth, I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about—”
“Then a stint in captivity might be just the thing to enlighten you.”
Henry put a hand on his sword. “Major, I will gladly see to—”
“I’m sure you would.” Stockton walked to the door of the tent and called into the rain before turning back to them. “Which is precisely why I have decided that Brown should oversee her time with us, instead of you.”
The thin soldier staggered in. “You called for me, Sir?”
“Take this prisoner to our holding cell and keep watch until morning.”
He bowed. “Aye, Sir.”
The instant the stranger pulled Kitty from the tent her heart collapsed. Henry was her last hope. If he couldn’t convince Stockton, they would search her and find the note. Then her desire to make right the wrongs she had done would be for naught.
The man shoved her into a tiny shack and she swung around just as the door smacked shut. The muddy ground seeped around her shoes and quick rhythmic drops of rain plunked down from the cracks in the roof.
The silence moaned around her as the lonely rains continued to fall. Her wet hair clung to her neck as remnants of the storm cried down on her head. She cupped her face in her hands to stifle a cry. Surely by now her family had noticed her absence. Did they think to tell Nathaniel? Did he care?
She retreated to the far corner and hugged her chest. None of that mattered. She must train her prayers and energies on the mission she’d started and desperately needed to execute.
Raising her eyes to the heavens, she gripped her arms tighter. Lord, I know thou art over all. Please carry me from here, and let me help the people of Plymouth as I did not help the people of Sandwich.
Muffled voices drew near and she pushed off the wall as a warm spray of courage trickled down her back. She stared at the locked door. No matter what lay ahead, she would not submit. As her father had proven, freedom was worth risking all.
Her fight had only just begun.