So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom 3)

With a smile and a nod, Nathaniel turned and started toward the house. “He already is.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The disguise was easy to obtain, the horse equally so.

Sitting astride his mount, garbed in a pair of homespun breeches, a linen shirt, and heavy greatcoat, Paul’s posture relaxed as he shifted his cocked hat. The scruff he’

d grown around his jaw may be out of fashion, but it hid his face and made him appear more rugged, as he wished. No longer a soldier in the king’s army. Nay. A liberty-loving patriot traveling up from the south to lend his efforts to the cause.

The breeze beat against the front of him as if it wished to bend Paul’s inflexible resolve. A burst of fire lit through him. Nothing could stay him from his goal. Donaldson would be found. Of that there was no question.

He glanced down the road, loosening his hold on the reins. After days of travel he was now less than sixty miles from Boston, an easy three day’s travel—two if he pressed it. If he knew anything of Donaldson—and he knew much—he knew the man had nowhere to go, nothing to do but assimilate in the patriot army. Since Donaldson was such a seasoned soldier, it would be easy to distinguish him amongst the sea of New Englanders who couldn’t tell one end of a musket from the other.

He glanced at the sky and gauged the remaining hours of sunlight. Five hours? Six? The need to increase his pace pitted in his stomach, but he resisted and swallowed away the ever-present frustration that Barrik was nowhere to be found. Paul groaned at the memory of finding the tavern in Providence well patronized, but with no sight of his cohort. Had the woman traveled there as she’d said she would, or abandoned her quest? Had Barrik found her to his liking and taken her back to the mysterious mountains from which he hailed? Paul gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Perhaps. It mattered little, though his pride dented at the thought of it. He should never have invested his energy in the thought of someone else doing the job that was truly all his own.

As the sun rose to the center of the sky, the air warmed and he stopped at the side of the road to remove his cloak and stretch the ache from his back. He reached for the small wooden canteen and leaned his head back, coating his parched throat. Wiping his sleeve against his mouth, he halted and whirled as the sounds of voices mingled with the rustle of leaves.

He prepared to mount as two young soldiers rounded the corner, ambling as if they were school boys avoiding work on the farm. Paul busied himself with his saddle and kept his head down.

“Good day to you, sir,” one of them offered as they neared.

Paul barely looked up and waved a hand. Get on, you fools.

The soldiers stopped only a few feet from him in the center of the road. The other soldier spoke this time. “You look as if you are lost. Perhaps we may be of assistance.”

Stunned, Paul stilled. He knew that voice.

Jimmy Brown.

Paul jerked his head up, instantly finding the source of the voice. He darted his gaze to Jimmy’s companion, but the boy’s round face called no recollection to mind.

But would Jimmy recognize Paul? Paul deepened his voice with a mask of accent. “Is this the way to Boston?”

Jimmy’s eyebrows pulled close, a deep line creasing in the center of his eyes. “Aye.” He turned to his companion. “Still sixty miles though, wouldn’t you say?”

The boy, even younger than Jimmy nodded. “Aye, just about.” His expression grew stern. “You one of them patriots? What’s your business on this road, anyway?”

Jimmy shot his companion a warning glare, but Paul took the reins of the encounter. “I should like to talk to this one, if I may.” He pointed at Jimmy then staked his stare on the other. “Alone.”

The stranger balked and shifted his feet, chuckling. “Who are you? Giving orders to a—”

“Do as he says, Marcus,” Jimmy commanded.

“But—”

“Just do it.” Jimmy’s voice cracked with more depth than Paul had ever heard from him. “Continue on and I shall meet with you soon enough.”

Scowling, the round-faced soldier backed away, taking a last and lingering look at Paul before turning down the road once again.

Paul kept his eye on the receding figure, carefully crafting the method he must employ to obtain the information that evaded him. For surely this little minion, though he likely knew little of import, could surely tell him something of worth.

He released a full sigh, placing a half smile on his face, and allowing his usual sound to emerge. “So they’ve promoted you to nursemaid, have they?”

Jimmy’s forehead wrinkled and his eyes flitted to the receding figure of his companion. He opened his mouth to answer, but snapped it shut, staring for a moment before speaking. He breathed out through his nose. “What do you want, Captain?”

Paul stepped forward, patting the horse and grinning to ease the angst in Jimmy’s stance. “I was only jesting.” He chuckled, summoning all the ease and useful charm he had trained so well. “Frankly, I don’t understand why you haven’t been moved up in the ranks. You were one of my best soldiers.”

The compliment seemed to hit a mark. Jimmy’s posture rose, but his eyes still questioned, so Paul continued. “I haven’t seen you since we lost Donaldson that day. Who are you serving under now?”