Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
But Once to Serve
The next morning, Amos sat on the MacPherson’s property, whittling while he chewed a piece of grass between his teeth. That was when frantic shouts arose.
Spitting the grass, he abandoned the stick and leapt to his feet, still holding his knife as a young boy came clambering up the hill.
“Oi!” Amos exclaimed. “What’s all this, uh?”
The boy came to a stop, struggling for breath as he held up a small scrap of paper. “I…I-I was paid to…t-to bring you this…a-as fast as…as I could.”
“Zounds, I can see that,” Amos said, taking the letter. “Y’might wanna sit down a sec, lad.” When the boy did as recommended, the cabinetmaker looked at the message. The words “He’s in trouble. Come quickly. -CB” were scrawled hastily across the parchment.
Swearing, Amos knelt alongside the boy with dark determination. “Anyone see you take this?”
The boy shook his head, still panting. “N-no, sir…no one. Just the pretty lady who…w-who paid me.”
“I’ll pay y’one shillin’ more to keep your mouth shut about this. Y’get me?”
Eyes brightening, the boy nodded. “I won’t say a peep!”
“Good lad.” While Amos reached for his coin purse, he peered out toward the skyline at the gray, foreboding bleakness creeping along the horizon.
“Tell me the truth!”
Benjamin panted, his nose dribbling blood as he remained bound and hunkered inside a makeshift prison cell.
Snarling, the appointed man for his torture, a loyalist named O’Grady, harshly clocked his face. “Listen here, y’hulver-headed arse,” he hissed, “you’re a dead man, so make nice with the Lord and tell me where Isabella Greene is!”
Benjamin lifted his gaze, confusion blitzing across his eyes. Isabella Greene? “I…I don’t know who that is…”
O’Grady struck him and Benjamin yelped, crashing painfully onto his side.
“We’ve got your letters, y’sniveling codshead, so there’s no use denying it!” the balding man barked. “We need to know who she is to you, and where she is!”
Despite the pain throbbing through every nerve ending, Benjamin was overcome by a wave of relief. They didn’t know about Clara. Somehow, by some miracle, they didn’t know she was involved. A grateful smile stretched Benjamin’s mouth, aggravating the cut on his upper cheek.
“Oh, so y’think this is funny, do you?” O’Grady growled. “I’ll teach y’true comedy!”
Snagging Benjamin’s collar, he dragged the younger man across the dirty cellar floor until he reached a wooden bucket.
All at once, panic burst within Benjamin and he squirmed, a shudder ripping through him as it became difficult to breathe.
Images of that night flashed behind his eyes: memories of inhaling water while Donnelly laughed and jeered his cruel incitements.
“Please,” Benjamin begged, terror ringing in his voice, “I…I-I can’t breathe…”
“Aye, that’s the point,” O’Grady snapped. “Unless you’ve got information for me, in y’go!”
Lips flapping soundlessly, Benjamin yelped as the man seized the back of the neck and dunked his head into the bucket with a forceful, aggressive shove.
By the time Amos arrived at the Hoskin residence, everyone was waiting for him at the dining room table. Clara stood and twisted her hands, her face pale as Josiah gestured for Amos to join them.
“What’s this about, uh?” he asked. “What happened to Moony?”
“Sit down,” Josiah entreated, to which Amos shook his head.
“Nuh-uh, too glimflashy to sit. Jus’ tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“General Arnold,” Clara choked. “He…h-he’s been sending out groups of soldiers to arrest potential blackguards. I’m unsure how many others were targeted, but Benjamin’s involvement was leaked by his physician.”
Amos’s eyes blazed. “Why that back-bitin’ sonofa—”
“He’s not the point of this,” she interjected. “Seeing how they have proof of Ben’s espionage, he’ll be executed. That doesn’t leave us much time to plan.”
“Long enough,” Amos said. “Is he bein’ held prisoner here?”
Josiah nodded. “They wanted to take him to New York City, but I bribed them with coin, livestock, and wheat to keep him here. Once I reminded them that Benjamin would be made an example of amongst his own people, as well as other potential blackguards, they agreed and dispatched a message for Arnold’s approval.
Once they receive word, the execution will begin…
or postpone, depending upon whether or not he agrees to the terms.”
“So, we might have more than a few days,” Amos surmised, his brow creasing. “No matter. I’ve got an idea.”
“What are you proposing?” Clara asked.
“Never you mind. The less y’know, the safer you’ll be. Jus’ be assured I’ll be scopin’ the area.”
She frowned, nervously fiddling with her fichu. “And do you need a map for this excursion?”
He shook his head. “I know this place like the back o’ me hand, all the surroundin’ areas, too.”
“And what if you don’t return in time?” Josiah pressed.
“We’ll have a backup plan. For now, I need you—” Amos pointed at Clara. “—to visit with Moony. As his caretaker, you can request a moment alone with your patient.”
Pulse leaping, Clara flushed and looked between both men. “I imagine I’ll need a bribe for this…”
“Only with coin,” Josiah cut in, expression stern. “If they demand more, I’ll be there to help barter.”
Releasing a breath, she smoothed her hands over her jumps and nodded. “What do you need me to do?”
Finally, Amos’s mouth quirked into a grin. “How d’ya feel about carryin’ a knife?”
With his arms tied around a support beam, Benjamin squirmed against the cellar floor, feeling as if there were a sharp blade in his lungs.
He didn’t dare think of Josiah nor Clara, of what would become of his body.
Would he be delivered home? Would his bones entwine with the tall, gnarled trees he and Daniel played in during their youth?
Or would he be cast aside in some nameless, forgotten grave?
The tavern cellar doors opened, and then blinding light filtered in over the hay-strewn floor. The sound of boots slapping against steps roused Benjamin’s attention, and he winced once a guard, Stevens, strode forward with a sneer.
“Hoskin! You’ve got yourself a visitor, so you’d better look alive.”
Benjamin remained unmoving, his lent clothing still soaked from earlier.
“Hoskin!” The guard snapped his fingers. “We don’t got all day! Well…” He chuckled. “You don’t got all day.”
“Will you leave us, please?” a familiar voice asked—Clara—and his heart leapt once she came into view. “I paid quite a bit of coin to see my charge, so I demand some privacy.”
Stevens grunted. “Sorry, but that’s not happenin’. I’m feelin’ generous, so I’ll stand over here so you two can jaw.”
“But sir!”
“Take it or leave it.”
Stevens walked off to the far corner of the room, and Benjamin sluggishly rose. When he staggered against his supportive post, Clara gasped. His right cheek was cut and swollen, and in addition to the rope tying his wrists, he bore pink, chafed rings from being so tightly restrained.
Trembling, Clara reached forward and took his bound hands. She shook in his grip and it pained him to see, to feel, how little comfort he could provide.
“Oh, Ben…” With tears in her eyes, Clara wove her arms around him and the obstructive post, fiercely embracing him.
Her breath dissolved into soft, shuddery sobs, and her fingers gripped his soaked shirt while he willed the post and shackles to disappear.
His bindings kept them from truly embracing, from holding one another as tightly as he wished.
Once Benjamin nudged his cheek into her hair, her sobs tore through him akin to a dull blade.
“It’s all right,” he soothed, his lips brushing her crown.
“No,” Clara choked, “it’s not. You look…y-you look dreadful, and you’re here all alone, and…and you’ve clearly been tortured, and I’m not even able to help you shoulder this pain!”
“As it should be,” Benjamin sternly replied. “This is what I deserve.”
“How?” Clara demanded.
“Because I’ve hurt people,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Ben, nearly every soldier has hurt people,” she dismissed. “This is war, and—”
“No, no, you don’t understand,” he cut in, his voice raw.
“I never told anyone this, but…I am so much worse.” She withdrew then, meeting his eyes as a silent plea to continue.
He shivered, and his bottom lip quivered in shame.
“When Donnelly held me hostage, he revealed that on the day of my brother’s execution, I killed a man…
his own brother.” Benjamin’s eyes grew glassy, and he tensed his jaw.
Clara touched his hands. “What happened?”
He swallowed, no longer able to hold her gaze.
“Some patriots and I staged a rescue for Daniel. Amidst the confusion, I stabbed a man to defend myself. I didn’t realize he died.
” Benjamin exhaled, long and tremulous. “Losing Daniel was the worst pain imaginable, so I empathize with what Donnelly endured. I am responsible for his loss, Clara—me—which is why I must willingly accept this sentence. This is my atonement. I deserve to hurt, to suffer, to die for taking a life.”