Eight #3
“Very well. I’ll start at the beginning.
I was born to a farmer in Delaware, near Dover.
There had been three sons and a daughter born before me, but they had all passed from one ailment or the other before I came along.
My mother died when I was five giving birth to a little girl who lived only an hour before she too was gone from this life.
My father grieved so deeply, he was never the same after that.
When I was six, he married a wicked, fork-tongued woman who detested me.
I always thought he married her simply to have a woman in the house.
When my father was absent, she beat and starved me, but when my father was there, she acted as though I was an angelic blessing to her. ”
“Did your father not see the truth?” Lucy asked, her eyes filled with concern.
“No. He saw only that his beloved wife was gone, and with her another child. Then my grandparents, Sarah’s parents, perished in a house fire.
Sarah barely survived. It’s why she and Nate have no children.
She was gravely wounded in the fire. Anyway, she was my father’s only living sibling, even though she is closer to my age than she was to his.
She moved in with us once she was well enough to walk, and my father’s wife did everything she could to make Sarah so miserable she would leave, but she had nowhere else to go.
Sarah and I made a pact to take care of each other.
Then my father took sick and succumbed to the illness a few days later.
His wife barely waited a week before she sold Sarah and me as indentured servants.
I was a little younger than Theo at the time, and Sarah was sixteen.
We went to different houses, a fact for which I’ll be grateful until my dying day.
Her master was strict but kind, and her indentured servitude was only for two years. I was not as fortunate.”
“What happened?” Lucy asked quietly, as though she could already envision the next part of his story.
“The master who purchased me was a cruel man. I was barely given enough to eat, and slept in the barn without a blanket, even on the coldest nights. His son was a year older than me, and must have taken after his mother, because he used to bring me food and clothes, even shared his toys. When the master was away, he helped me with my chores, and then we would play or go fishing, or just stare up at the sky and imagine what it would be like to be free. Thomas was a good lad and grew up to be a good man. He was the one who helped me with my schooling. When I was old enough and strong enough, he provided the assistance I needed to begin working toward a better future.”
Lucy’s brow wrinkled in question. “What does that mean? What did you do?”
“When I finished my day’s tasks for the master, I often worked around town at odd jobs, earning every coin I could and hiding it in a sack I had buried out behind the pig’s pen where the old man would never have thought to look.
However, because I was working for others when I should have been at his farm, I soon mastered the ability to create disguises and step into personas far different than my own. ”
He wasn’t surprised when Lucy’s mouth formed a perfect O, showing her surprise.
Branch grinned. “It’s true. I could pretend to be anyone, and no one was any the wiser.
When I turned eighteen, my indentured servitude ended, but the master refused to let me go.
He chained me in the barn and beat me to within an inch of my life.
I may have died there, but Thomas reported his father to the local sheriff when he discovered what he had done.
The sheriff was an upright fellow. He came out and took me to the doctor.
When I was healed, he gave me a job, which led to another, and soon I was working every hour I could, saving all my money to one day purchase my own farm.
Thomas could no longer abide his father and left the day the sheriff hauled me to the doctor. ”
“You had such a hard, horrible childhood, Branch. How are you so … you? So kind and full of fun?”
“Why not be that way? Bitterness is a terrible pill to swallow, and once you do, it slowly poisons your soul. It certainly doesn’t hurt the person who hurt you.
It’s better to let it go and move on.” He had learned that the hard way, but thanks to the sheriff and a reverend who had taken an interest in him, Branch had eventually found his way.
Lucy studied him as though she needed a moment to consider his words. “How did you find Sarah?”
“I wrote to the family who had purchased her indenture, and they had, miraculously, kept in touch with her. She had met Nate at a church service. He had been in the area visiting a friend. When he returned to Boston, it was with Sarah as his bride. I took the address the family shared with me and went to Boston. The day I knocked on Sarah’s door was one of joy and many tears.
She had heard I had been killed years ago and hadn’t tried to find me. ”
“Oh, Branch! How terrible for you both.” Lucy’s beautiful eyes filled with tears. “Sarah must have been beyond words when you arrived on her doorstep.”
“Indeed. She stood as still as a statue once I told her my name, like an apparition awaited entry on her doorstep. It had been ten years since she had seen me. She had changed, of course, as well, but she still looked like the girl I remembered from my childhood. Anyway, she and Nate put a roof over my head. I worked at any honest job I could find, and helped Nate in the mornings and evenings on his small farm. We both listened to Samuel Adams and his cousin John, discussing the need for not just liberty, but a revolution. The British took over Nate and Sarah’s farm, giving them nothing for their trouble beyond a word of advice to stay away.
I found a room in town, but Nate and Sarah ended up with his brothers in a small village.
I started looking for a farm, one away from Boston and the fighting.
I had heard about some beautiful places near Philadelphia and journeyed here to see what I could find.
The moment I set foot on my farm, I knew it was the place for me.
I purchased it, then sent word to Nate and Sarah to join me.
It took some convincing to get Nate to agree, but I signed over part of the farm to him and Sarah in exchange for them working all the land while I’m in the Continental Army. ”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open, and she gaped at him as if he had just grown horns atop his head.
“That surprise you?” he asked, unable to hide a grin at her shocked expression.
“It … I … Branch! I thought you were a Loyalist, or perhaps even a spy for the Redcoats.”
He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “And yet you fancied me anyway.”
“I never said I fancied you.” She prickled, but calmed considerably when he kissed the back of her hand a second time. “Well, I may fancy you a little.”
He chuckled. “I thought you might, Miss Sassafras.”
Her eyes went as round as saucers. “How on earth do you know about that?” she asked in a heated whisper, looking around as though spies might hear each word they exchanged.
“Because, Lucy, Martha Washington herself told me Sassafras was going to be your code name. I did come into your shop that first day to retrieve the gloves and locket, but I was also there to test you. To see if you’d blithely hand them over, or protect them.
When you pretended not to know anything about the locket and refused to part with the gloves, Martha suggested you would be a good spy.
There is an abundance of news that passes through your father’s shop. ”
“There is. I’ve …” Lucy paused. “I’ve recorded some of it.”
“I know, Lucy. That day at the market, when you gave a beggar a coin, it was me,” Branch admitted.
“I also was one of the men who bumped into you, testing you to see how protective you’d be of the locket.
No one can know what side I’m on, Lucy. You must keep my secret. It could be a matter of life or death.”
“But how did you go from searching for a farm to purchase here to being a spy for General Washington?” Lucy asked in a hushed tone.
“I joined the Army, and my talent for disguises was immediately noticed. I was given greater and greater responsibilities until General Washington himself sent me here to Philadelphia. Theo is right in that the city is full of spies for both sides. From what I can gather, the British intend on taking Philadelphia before the war is through. It won’t happen right away, but that particular storm is brewing.
It would be good if you and your family thought about staying here at the farm with your grandparents.
You’ll be much safer when that time comes. ”
“Safe, yes, but not helpful to the rebellion. I can’t hear messages to convey if I’m out here weeding Grandpapa’s cabbages.”
Branch smiled and nodded his head in understanding. “It’s heady stuff, isn’t it? Being a spy, I mean. The danger. The intrigue. It also eats at your peace and rattles your nerves until you can barely discern which way is left or right.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Lucy asked, holding his hand between hers again, offering him a look of such tenderness, he nearly pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Branch nodded. “The past few days were … challenging. Truthfully, you’ve been the only reason I’ve endured the wretched stench and heat of the city as long as I have.”
“What are you saying?” Lucy asked, sitting up a little straighter.
“I’m saying, Lucy Carlson, that I have feelings for you that are quite foreign to me,” he said, glancing down at her small hand resting on his.
“I’ve never felt this way about a woman, and I’m coming to realize I likely won’t feel this way again.
I would very much like to spend time with you, getting to know you better.
I also realize in the midst of a war that will pull us in directions we can’t begin to fathom is not the best time for pursuing such things, but I can no more stay away from you than I can refuse to breathe in air. ”
Branch feared what he would see if he looked into her face, but had to know. He raised his gaze to hers and found himself drawn into the warmth and affection in her eyes, the sweetness of her smile, and the tenderness of her expression.
“I feel the same, Branch, and would appreciate time with you more than you can know.”
He grinned and rose to his feet. “In that case, I had better take you back to your grandparents before I forget my promise to myself to behave like a gentleman and kiss you senseless.”
Lucy offered him a cheeky smile. “Maybe I wouldn’t object if you did forget,” she said, then began running down the path, laughing at him over her shoulder.
Branch chased after her, wondering if it was the beginning of a lifetime spent chasing after the woman he loved.
He stopped her before they reached the yard where the voices of their loved ones carried to them.
He grabbed her hand and turned her around.
“Lucy, you should know I’m not a soft man.
I have endured a hard life, and some of those rough edges are bound to gouge at some point, although it won’t be intentional when they do. I just want you to be aware of that.”
“I’m aware, Branch.” She squeezed his hand, then stood on her toes and kissed his cheek as her scent mingled with the night air, fragrant with flowers and a hint of woodsmoke from the fire the women had cooked over that day. “I’m fairly skilled at smoothing and polishing rough edges.”
“I believe you are,” Branch said, and brushed a light kiss over her lips before he summoned his considerable willpower not to kiss her as he dreamed of doing. Instead, he escorted her back to her family.
There would be time enough for kisses once he had earned the right to lavish her with them.