Nine #4
Thomas provided the name of the contact on the New Jersey side of the river and where she would locate the man. Branch told her where to find a boat small enough for her to be able to row, and the narrowest point for her to cross.
“I hate this, Lucy. I’m fearful for you.” Branch’s voice sounded weaker as he spoke.
Lucy snatched one of the rags off the table and pressed it against his side. “I’ll be fine. Just don’t bleed to death before I return.”
Branch grinned and looked as though he might kiss her as he lifted a hand toward her waist, then he saw the blood and dropped it back to his lap.
“I’ll go with Lucy,” Theo volunteered.
“No!” every adult in the room said at the same time.
“They’re more likely to leave Lucy be if I’m with her,” Theo wisely observed. “We could say we are going to visit our grandmother, couldn’t we?”
Cleta shook her head, but Ward walked over to Theo and knelt in front of him, placing his hands on his son’s arms. “Theodore, this isn’t a game. It is serious business. You cannot tell a living soul about any of this. Is that understood? Not even Miles.”
Theo met his father’s gaze. “I’ve known about Lucy being a spy for weeks, and didn’t say nothing about it.”
“Anything,” Cleta corrected out of habit. “You didn’t say anything, and you are correct. You kept that secret quite well, Son.”
Theo’s chest puffed up with pride. “I can help Lucy, Papa. I promise.”
Ward looked up at Cleta, who threw her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “If we never see either of our children again, Ward Carlson, I shall beat you black and blue with my favorite skillet.”
“And I’ll let you, my love,” Ward said, ruffling Theo’s hair as he stood. He kissed Cleta’s cheek, then looked at Lucy.
“Go change into a plain gown, Lucy. While you do that, your mother will fill a basket with whatever will make it look like you are taking food to your poor, sick grandmother in Cooper’s Ferry.
Theo, go fetch your water warbler. If anyone happens along and you need help, you blow that whistle as loud as you can.
It will bring people running. Understood? ”
“Yes, sir!” Theo took off up the steps with such haste, he tripped and would have fallen if Lucy hadn’t been right behind him to catch him. She righted her brother, and they didn’t stop until they reached their rooms on the third floor.
Lucy was unfastening the pins and ties on her gown when she realized no one was keeping watch in the shop.
“Theo! Lock the shop door when you go back downstairs, and set the sign in the window that Papa puts out when we’re eating dinner,” she hollered as she yanked at a tie that felt like it was gnarled in a knot.
She heard Theo’s steps thundering back down the stairs and knew he would see to the task.
Lucy pulled on an older gown she wore for doing chores around the house.
It was plain, faded pink from the rich burgundy hue she had loved when it had been new.
No one would know which side of the rebellion she was on if they judged her on the color of her attire alone.
Quickly snatching a few coins from the jar on her desk, she stuffed them into her pocket along with the toothpick case she hadn’t even realized she had carried in her hand upstairs.
Her mother was in the kitchen, frantically stuffing a basket full of an assortment of food.
It held everything from the peaches she had set on the windowsill to ripen to half a loaf of bread, slices of meat, and a small round of cheese.
Theo ran inside with a cider-filled waterskin held in his hands.
“Just in case you get thirsty,” Cleta said when Lucy lifted a brow at the waterskin. “Your father said for you to see him before you go.”
Lucy rushed down the steps to the hidden room, shocked once again that it existed beneath the storeroom. It was cooler there, and several candles and two oil lamps lightened the otherwise dark space.
“I’m ready to go, Papa,” Lucy said as she took in the fact that Branch had moved his chair to the other side of the cot and wiped a rag soaked in the rum over Thomas’ wounds, making the man hiss air out between his teeth.
Lucy grabbed a rag from the stack on the table, twisted it into a rope, and set it beside Thomas’ head on the mattress. “He’ll need something to bite into.”
Branch nodded and caught her hand in his, but remained quiet.
“Tell us each step of the plan, Lucy,” her father said, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up past his elbows in preparation for digging the musket balls out of Thomas.
“Theo and I will go down to the river, to the broken wharf no one uses. There is a small rowboat there, hidden beneath it. We will row across to Cooper’s Ferry and go directly to the stable and ask for Whitley.
Under no circumstances are we to give the message to anyone but him.
The Coopers are known Loyalists and to be avoided if possible.
Whitley will take the case with the message, and we can return. ”
“You make it sound like you’re attending a meeting with the ladies from church,” Branch said, sounding both irritated and fearful.
“Not with Theo along,” Lucy said with a cheeky smile that made Thomas grin and both Branch and her father scowl.
“Just be careful, Daughter.” Ward kissed her cheek as he picked up the forceps and a scoop used for dislodging musket balls.
“We will be. I promise.” Lucy turned and started up the stairs, but she couldn’t leave.
Not until she had hugged Branch around the neck and kissed his whiskery cheek, embarrassed to have done so in front of her father, but not regretting her action at all.
Branch was careful not to touch her with his bloody hands, but the look in his eyes, even glazed as they were with pain, let her know he intended to have a kiss he deemed suitable upon her return.
“Don’t you dare die tonight, Lucy Carlson,” Branch growled at her.
“I don’t plan to, Sergeant Barton.” Lucy tipped her head to him, then raced up the stairs, grabbed Theo’s hand and the basket, kissed her mother’s tear-streaked cheek, and stepped into an undertaking she felt ill-prepared to face.