Five
Branch watched Lucy and her little brother hurry off toward a stall selling blueberries, strawberries, and fresh eggs.
He grinned, thinking of all the ways he had tormented the woman since she had left the goldsmith’s shop.
He had paid one of the young boys who were always eager to earn a coin to keep watch for Lucy if she left the shop that morning.
The lad had raced up to him as he had been keeping an eye on a suspicious ship docking at a wharf on the river and let him know Lucy and her brother were heading toward the market.
Branch hurried to one of the stalls that sold a variety of daily goods and was also a place the local Continental spies used to occasionally exchange information.
Out of necessity, Branch had become a master of disguises and could change his persona in the time it took to blink.
He had hastily grabbed what he needed to pretend to be a beggar and positioned himself on a corner where Lucy would be sure to walk right past him.
It hadn’t surprised Branch in the least when Lucy had been kind and offered him a coin.
While one of his trusted friends had bumped against her, with instructions to reach for her pocket, Branch had cast off the beggar’s appearance, donned attire fit for a dandy, and intentionally bumped into Lucy just to see what she would do.
Branch had asked two other friends to bump into Lucy as well, and one of the old women who spied for them had asked Lucy for food.
Lucy had offered a sweet bun to the woman without hesitation.
Although Branch had surmised Lucy was nervous and disconcerted, she had acted as though nothing were amiss while keeping a watchful eye on her brother.
Theo seemed to think he was Lucy’s protector and had appeared quite indignant on her behalf each time someone had bumped into her.
The lad had a lion’s share of mettle, even though he couldn’t have been more than eight or nine.
Truthfully, he looked like trouble frequently nipped at his heels, but he clearly adored his sister.
Branch could tell at a glance that Lucy was equally enamored with her young sibling.
Branch had poked around just enough to learn about the Carlson family without raising any questions.
They were liked by their neighbors and acquaintances.
Respected in the community. Every inquiry he had made had been met with kind or approving words about Ward and Cleta Carlson and their two children.
From what Branch had observed, Lucy had an incredible talent when it came to designing and creating jewelry, even if no member of the Philadelphia guild would ever recognize it.
He had watched from the shadows across the street as she had labored long hours over a piece of jewelry, getting it as close to perfection as possible.
The pieces he had seen the few times he had entered the store were beautifully and skillfully made.
Despite her work going unrecognized, Lucy was, as Martha Washington had predicted, a woman who was full of spunk and gumption, with a kind heart, a keen mind, and a softness life had yet to corrupt.
Then again, she was only eighteen. Branch had been her brother’s age when she had been born.
He told himself he was far too seasoned by life for an innocent girl.
But he couldn’t help feeling drawn to her.
Not just to her pretty face, with curls of dark hair peeking from beneath her market bonnet to frame it, nor those soulful midnight-blue eyes, nor the sweet way she smiled when Theo said something to amuse her.
It wasn’t the graceful way she moved, nor the way she squared those narrow shoulders, as though she would face whatever came her way with dignity and strength.
It wasn’t the tantalizing fragrance of her that put him in mind of the roses at the house where Mrs. Washington was staying. It was everything about Lucy.
The first time he set eyes on her, he had been struck by her joy and beauty, but then he had seen her gentleness and kindness, her sharp intellect, and her affection for her family and friends.
Despite being careful about who witnessed it, her excitement and dedication to the valiant cause of liberty was also something he admired.
Which was why he was proud of how well she had done in handing off the locket to the courier.
By the time the exchange was made, Lucy had looked like she was on her way to being thoroughly unraveled, but she had held on to her composure, asked enough questions to ensure the courier was who he claimed to be, and had the presence of mind to keep Theo occupied.
Branch had figured she needed a moment to collect herself and thought offering her a refreshing cup of cider would be a way to check on her. She had bristled at his approach, but he had an idea it was more out of what she deemed inappropriate behavior than a dislike on her part.
The way her eyes sparked with interest and awareness in his presence made him both gladdened and distraught. War was a terrible time to think of romance and love.
The very notion that Lucy inspired both of those thoughts in him left Branch more unsettled than if he had been caught by an entire camp full of Loyalist dragoons.
Branch did what he did best and disappeared into the crowd, keeping an eye on Lucy and Theo as they purchased blueberries, a fresh fish, and a loaf of bread, along with a bouquet of bright blossoms, before they headed home.
He kept his distance as he followed, needing to make sure they arrived safely for his own peace of mind, then continued on his way.
He left a message with Jack for Mrs. Washington that Lucy had done her job well and could be put into service as an informant.
In a rush, he hurried to the room he had appropriated on the neighboring property, changed into the worn clothes of a sailor, and returned to the wharf.
As he made subtle inquiries about the questionable ship in the harbor, he had to force his thoughts away from Lucy and her sweet smile. If he didn’t maintain his focus, he was likely to end up dead, or worse–imprisoned by the enemy.
Branch smiled and pretended to be a half-witted man seeking employment. He acted with just enough joviality to get an invitation to board the ship, owned by a Loyalist known for his emphatic support of the king.
An hour later, Branch was careful to look harmless as the captain asked him a few questions to which he offered stammered responses, hoping to draw on any sympathy the man might hold for a simpleton in need of work.
“What did you say your name was, son?” the captain asked, staring at Branch.
“William, sir. William Jones, sir,” Branch said, twisting his hat in nervous hands and keeping his gaze on his feet.
“Very well, William. You may work on my ship, but only for a few days. I’ll be leaving for New York soon and can’t take you along. For now, you’ll report to Mr. Collins. There is much to be done before we leave.”
“Yes, sir,” Branch said, pasting on what he hoped was a ridiculous grin and nodding his head enthusiastically. “Thank you, sir!”
“Take him below deck, Matthews, and see that Collins knows I’ve approved his temporary placement aboard the ship.”
Branch grinned at Matthews, settled his hat on his head, and followed as the man led the way below deck.
“Collins!” Matthews hollered over the sounds of clanking metal.
A man with a disheveled queue and a look of irritation on his face leaned around a support post. “What is it?”
“The captain hired this dunce to help load our cargo,” Matthews said, offering Branch a look of disgust. “Put him to work. And make sure he is off the ship when we set sail.”
Collins nodded, then glowered at Branch. “Come along, then. There is work aplenty, even for the likes of you.”
For the next two days, Branch labored hard with little food or rest. Collins treated those working on the ship just slightly better than animals.
As Branch worked, packing the heavy crates of provisions into the hold, he kept his eyes and ears open, and his mouth firmly closed.
The owner of the ship, along with the captain, was clearly a Loyalist. The contents of the ship were bound for New York to aid the king’s troops already establishing themselves on Staten Island under the direction of General William Howe.
Branch waited until everyone was asleep to sneak off the ship and into town, heading directly to the home of a doctor who was as patriotic as General Washington himself.
After awakening the man with a tap on his window, Branch told him what he required, then rushed to the room above the blacksmith shop, where his friend Rowan resided.
Quietly creeping inside, Branch waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room before he made his way over to the cot where Rowan slept and placed a hand over the man’s mouth.
Rowan’s eyes shot open, and he reached for the pistol beside his bed.
Branch grabbed it before his friend decided to shoot him and stepped back. “It’s me, Rowan. Branch Barton.”
Rowan sat up and lit a candle, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he glared up at Branch. “What in the devil are you doing?” The man’s nose wrinkled. “And why do you smell like you’ve crawled through a wagon full of night soil?”
“I’ve been working on Eagan Masterson’s blasted ship the past few days.
He’s loaded it to the gills with supplies bound for New York, and he’s planning on leaving in the morning.
I need you to get a message to John Greene.
He’ll be able to board the ship, capture the crew, and take over the supplies for our men.
Just tell him to keep an eye on the water for The Hollyhock.
By the time it reaches John, no one will put up any resistance.
Tell him to have a crew ready to take the supplies to our troops. ”
“How do you intend to incapacitate the entire crew?”
Branch grinned. “I have a plan. You might warn John that he’ll need a few men willing to clean up what will undoubtedly be a mess. There are plenty of buckets and rags on the ship.”
“You might consider your own clothes among the rags,” Rowan said, snarling his nose at him again. “Have you finally gone wild and turned into a cavedweller?”
Branch laughed and slapped his friend’s brawny shoulder. “I might just burn the clothes when I finish with Masterson’s crew. Are you certain you’ve come far enough from sleep to know what to do?”
Rowan stretched and yawned, reached for the breeches he had left on the floor by his cot, and tugged them on before he stood.
“I will get a message to John right away. When will the ship sail?”
“The captain said he intends to set sail at dawn. We don’t have much time,” Branch said and turned to leave.
“You look half-starved, man. Do you need food?” Rowan moved to where part of a loaf of bread sat beneath a cloth.
“I am half-starved and would gratefully accept a slice of bread. Speaking of food, warn John not to eat anything that will be served in the morning. Toss it overboard, and get food from the storage.”
“Poison, is it?” Rowan’s eyebrows hiked upward as he sliced two thick pieces of bread and handed them to Branch along with a ripe peach.
“A feast, my friend. Thank you,” Branch said, taking a big bite of peach that left juice running down his chin. “And I’m not poisoning them to death. Just enough to make them wish they could die.”
“Be safe,” Rowan said as he and Branch hurried down the stairs.
Rowan went to saddle a fast horse while Branch kept to the shadows as he returned to the doctor’s house.
By the time he reached it, he had consumed the bread and peach, and gratefully accepted the meat and cheese the doctor gave him along with a jar of powder tucked into a linen sack.
“Do you understand how to administer that?” the doctor asked as Branch stood in the darkness at the man’s back door.
“I believe so, sir. I’ve had it poured down my gullet before and have a working knowledge of the effects.”
“Very well. Just be careful.” The doctor returned inside the house and softly closed the door.
Branch settled the sack inside his shirt and hastened back to The Hollyhock. It didn’t take much effort for him to slip past the guards on duty and below deck to where the food was stored that he knew the crew would eat to break their fast.
The powder the doctor had given him would merely cause a violent case of gastric distress, not poison or kill anyone. But it would leave the crew incapacitated long enough for John Greene and his men to take over the ship and leave the crew at the mercy of members of the Continental Army.
Branch hurried to add the powder to the food stores he knew would be used to prepare the morning meal. He used every last grain of the powder, then tossed the jar overboard and returned to the area he had been assigned to sleep.
With nerves tightly strung, he found rest elusive, but feigned deep slumber as the crew began to awaken.
Matthews kicked Branch’s leg with far more force than necessary to roust him. “Get up, you vermin. We’ll set sail soon, and if you want your money before we leave, you need to finish loading the last of the supplies.”
Branch rubbed his eyes and swallowed the urge to trip Matthews as he swaggered by.
Instead, he rose, pulled on his hat, and made his way up to the deck where men were forming a line to pass along the smaller crates that waited on the dock to be loaded.
Branch had seen them there earlier this morning and thought the captain either brave or stupid to have left them sitting there most of the night.
Then again, it was good both the captain and Masterson seemed to think their ship was untouchable.
The sun was barely up in the sky when the last crate was loaded.
Collins came over and paid each of the men who were not a permanent part of the crew, offering them all work in the future when The Hollyhock returned.
Branch smiled like the idiot he was pretending to be when Collins placed the coins in his hand, and dipped his head in thanks.
“Go along now, boys. We’re setting sail shortly.”
Branch and the other men moved off the ship. He didn’t look back as he walked away. But he fervently hoped his plan worked. Otherwise, he had sentenced John Greene and his men to death.