To Capture a Rebel’s Heart (Heart’s Rebellion #1)

Prologue

ORDER OF EXECUTION

Take heed.

BE IT KNOWN that

DANIEL ELIJAH HOSKIN,

having been found GUILTY of Treason against the Crown,

shall hereby be EXECUTED,

and hanged by the neck until DEAD.

May God have Mercy on his Soul!

GOD SAVE THE KING.

February 1779

The first time Benjamin Hoskin saw a dead body, he was only nine years old.

Devastated by the sight of his mother’s sunken cheekbones and wide, gaping eyes—that wasn’t her!

That was not her!—he’d turned mute for three whole months until his older brother, Daniel, successfully guided him back into speaking as before.

Fourteen years later, Benjamin found himself speechless again at the sight of Daniel’s cold, lifeless body hanging from a gibbet.

He’d always warned his brother there was a price for freedom; he just never imagined it would be Daniel, his shining beacon of hope—Daniel, the man he endlessly looked up to, being reduced to nothing more than a cautionary tale to those who enacted treason.

The redcoats swarmed their hometown of Freyview, Long Island, two years prior.

Even with the threat of death closing in, Daniel proudly upheld his patriotism, whether it be through pamphlet readings and discussions, hosting secret meetings after their father’s church services, or rebellion to one of the highest degrees: smuggling.

Over the past several months, Daniel and his best friend, Amos McQuinn, had taken to traveling up and down the colony of New York, stealing from bloodybacks, and anonymously giving to their own.

Why had he let this go on, Benjamin wondered? Why had he turned a blind eye and allowed his brother to throw away his life?

With a weary grunt, Amos McQuinn plopped down in front of him, nudging Benjamin’s foot with his boot. “How’s your arm there, lad?”

Benjamin pulled back his leg. “Never better,” he muttered, wincing as he assessed the stinging, angry red welt beneath the torn fabric on his upper arm. “You have any whiskey?”

Amos laughed, though the sound was strangled.

“Whaddaya think there, Moony-boy? Me without whiskey’s like bein’ a milkless cow.

” Retrieving a flask from the inside of his coat pocket, he handed it over while the other men in their hideout shuffled about, each tending to their wounds and recuperating.

Expression devoid of light, Benjamin uncapped the flask and took a long, hard swallow, then dribbled the booze over his graze mark. “You said Dan’s other friends would show up today…that there would be enough of us to fight.”

“Aye, well…” Amos shrugged, lifting a carrot from his satchel. “Not everyone wants to risk their life—their families’ lives—for a friend.” He bit into the vegetable. “I’m real sorry there, lad. Y’know Dan was like a brother to me.”

Benjamin froze, his limbs trembling as Amos took another bite.

Though innocent, the stark, crisp pop was akin to being at the gallows, to hearing Daniel’s neck snap while he and the other men arrived too late to save him.

Even while riding in like a bunch of masked bandits on horseback, it hadn’t been enough.

“You all right then?” he pressed.

Benjamin drew a breath, the churning in his gut growing worse. “I’m fine.”

“Oi, c’mon now,” Amos coaxed. “Y’don’t hafta lie…”

“I’m not lying,” Benjamin countered. But he was.

He was lying, if only to suppress the catastrophe deep within his very bones.

The thought of being separated by six feet of dirt left Benjamin with a sour coil of bile in his throat.

Daniel was dead—dead!—and when Benjamin realized he would never lay eyes upon his brother’s friendly, impish face, nor tease him about his infatuations that changed with the moon phases, nor eagerly tear into his witty, clever letters, nor even embrace him again, he felt completely hollowed out…

empty. So empty, in fact, that it took him a moment to realize he was having trouble breathing.

With a quivering hand, Benjamin smoothed his palm over his chest and drew in several slow, unsteady breaths. “He’s gone,” he whispered, trying to come to grips with this truth. “Dan, he…he’s gone.”

Amos winced. “Aw, c’mon there, Moony…”

“Don’t call me that!” Benjamin snarled. “Only Dan has that right!”

Amos sighed, then rose from his perch to come sit alongside him.

At thirty-four, the cabinetmaker was eleven years Benjamin’s senior, but looked far older due to working outdoors and his queued, silver-streaked black hair.

The exaggerated crow’s feet around his eyes always crinkled like starbursts whenever he smiled, yet that comforting sight was presently nowhere to be found. “Y’wanna talk about it?” he coaxed.

Benjamin laughed, but there was no mirth in his tone.

“What’s there to talk about?” he bitterly asked.

“Dan chose his hill to die upon, and now I get to bury him on that hill.” A spark of resentment burned within Benjamin’s breast, and his limbs shook while he set aside the flask.

“He should’ve kept his big mouth shut. He should’ve—”

“What?” Amos fired back. “Ignored his beliefs? Been lowly an’ subservient to the Crown? We can’t all be neutral in this war like you, y’know.”

Benjamin scoffed. “At least that way he’d still be alive. He would still be here with…!”

Me.

Swallowing the word, hot tears filled his vision, and angrily, he swiped his forearm across his eyes. “He was being selfish.”

“That ain’t true,” Amos replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Dan was a lot o’ things, but he sure wasn’t selfish. Y’know that, lad.”

He did know. Once the King’s Men came after Freyview’s sole church—the one ministered by their father, Josiah—and stripped it of pews for kindling and British fortifications, it had been the ultimate nail in the proverbial coffin.

It drove Daniel right into the enemy’s snare, because above all, his brother was helpless but to lend his aid. He’d always done the right thing.

“So, what now?” Benjamin miserably asked. “Father may agree to help us hide, if asked, but unless he moves away from Freyview, he could also become a target.”

“I sent Timmons to fetch ’im ’til things’re safe,” Amos promised. “Danny may be gone, but his fight’s far from over.”

Benjamin squinted. “How do you mean? What good can he do for your cause now that he’s dead?”

“Funny you should ask that,” a deep voice spoke from behind.

Jerking in surprise, Benjamin looked over his shoulder at a broad-chested, imposing man with dark hair and sharp, cunning brown eyes—a major general in the Continental Army, and the very reason they were able to assemble that morning—yet he was presently wearing plainclothes rather than his uniform.

He was another one of Daniel’s patriot friends.

“We haven’t been properly introduced,” the man said. “My name is Major General Edwin Bishop.”

Benjamin turned around more fully, appraising the other man with caution. “Benjamin Hoskin,” he replied. “Dan spoke of you often.”

“If he confided in you, I trust he also spoke of plans for our future,” Edwin continued.

“Those plans are precisely why I was in town and able to arrange this attack. In addition to reconnaissance work, I’ve been recruiting help along the side.

Daniel was preparing to go undercover for me to infiltrate an influential, successful Tory family. ”

“Aye, in Upper Manhattan,” Amos affirmed. “Jedediah Boyd aids that pifflin’ lout, Mayor Mathews, an’ other barmy, good-for-nothin’ lobcocks like Major General Tryon, so we were hopin’ if Dan ingratiated himself, the family might get cocky an’ start flappin’ their lips.”

Benjamin blinked at them in shock, overwhelmed by this sudden influx of information.

“But that’s impossible,” he snapped. “Dan, he…h-he only spoke of smuggling exploits…” Unbidden, a spark of nettled fury burned within his breast. “Are you saying he was to be a spy? A spineless, lowly blackguard who does everything in secret rather than out in the open like a man?” Livid, he scoffed and shook his head.

“A pox on you both. He would never do something so cowardly.”

Edwin’s expression remained blank, though there was a slight twitch in his cheek. “I know spying is frowned upon, and considered gutless by many; but Hoskin, if intelligence helps us win this war and end all the bloodshed, would you truly be so bothered?”

Benjamin swallowed, his throat painfully raw. “No,” he rasped. “No, I suppose not.”

“I understand your reservations,” Edwin continued. “I, myself, would’ve never dreamt of turning toward such underhanded channels, but the British enacted these tactics first. It would be asinine of us not to reciprocate.”

“Aye, well it don’t much matter now, does it?” Amos grumbled. “The plan’s all gone to shite. Dan’ll have died for nothin’.”

“Not if he—” Edwin pointed toward Benjamin. “—goes in his place.”

Amos rocketed up from the floor. “Are y’dicked in the knob, man? D’ya want poor Reverend Hoskin losin’ both his sons? Find someone else!”

“I don’t recall asking you,” Edwin replied. “No one else here is eloquent enough to blend in with the target, and Hoskin is clearly a smart boy…a bookkeeper who attended college, if I’m not mistaken? So surely, he can answer for himself.”

Amos turned his head and spat. “You really wanna fight me, uh? Don’t be fooled by me size. I could tear ya limb from bloody limb!”

“All right, that’s enough!” Benjamin growled.

Shakily, he rose from his perch off the floor, the blue of his eyes burning like the center of a candle flame.

“The major general is right; I can speak for myself. And Amos, if you feel responsible for my life, I hereby absolve you of any such charge. I am nobody’s burden. ”

“But Moony—!”

He speared Amos with a sharp glare, his upper lip curling while looking between both men. “Who else knows of this plan?”

“Just the men in this room, and Major Oliver Yates. Whenever I’m indisposed, he’s the one you’ll send word to,” Edwin explained.

“Everyone here was supposed to take part in aiding Daniel, whether serving as his courier, or acting as part of the intelligence gathering itself.” He shrugged.

“Alas, half our team died during this failed rescue, but the smaller numbers work in our favor.”

Benjamin’s mouth twisted. “I’m so happy to hear you think of your own men as expendable, sir.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it. Every man in this room knew precisely what they signed up for when they joined this fight, and sacrifices can and do need to be made. Your brother understood that better than anyone. And you…” Edwin huffed, looking him over in distaste.

“You are clearly here for selfish reasons: to help your brother rather than our cause. So why not continue that selfishness by going ahead with Daniel’s plan? By honoring his final intentions?”

Amos spat again. “Don’t listen to ’im, Ben. You ain’t a bad man for choosin’ family. If mine were still alive, I’d be fightin’ for ’em too.”

“No, uh…he’s right,” Benjamin replied, his hands curling into fists.

“I owe it to Dan to at least consider the possibility…” If I’d only supported him from the start, perhaps he would still be here.

Drawing a sharp breath through his nose, he looked back at Edwin.

“If I agree to help—and I will need time to think this over—what would I have to do?”

Edwin’s mouth tipped into a grin, a hint of yellowed teeth peeking between his lips. “How good are you at improvisation?”