Ten
“Don’t let go of my hand, Theo,” Lucy warned quietly as the two of them left the safety of their home and walked around to the front of the building, as though they were out for a stroll to the market.
Plenty of merchants were still open and selling their fruits, vegetables, flowers, and baked goods.
Finally, she and Theo made it to where the wharves jutted out into the river. Lucy turned and headed north, ambling along as though they were just out for a summer stroll.
“Is it that one?” Theo asked in a hushed tone as they neared a wharf that leaned to one side with a broken board jutting upward on the end of it. It appeared so rickety, she thought a strong wind might topple it.
“Run down there to see if the boat is where it’s supposed to be,” Lucy said, releasing Theo’s hand, then pretending the breeze had caught her cap and nearly blown it off so she could turn and look behind her.
No one followed them, at least that she could see.
She slowly turned back to Theo and the wharf, taking in all her surroundings.
Across the river, she could see people getting onto the ferry that would bring them into Philadelphia.
“It’s there, Lucy,” Theo said, running up to her.
“Good. We’ll walk down there, get in the boat, and row across. Simple as that.” Lucy took Theo’s hand in hers again, not that she was worried about him getting lost. It was because she needed the comfort the feel of his small palm pressed against hers brought to her.
Lucy was glad her father had told her to change, or she would have completely ruined one of her favorite gowns. The mud was thick and deep, so she tossed her shoes into the boat.
“Hold the basket and waterskin, Theo,” she said, handing the basket to him, then bent her knees. “Climb on.”
Under other circumstances, Theo would have whooped in anticipation of her giving him a ride, but he quietly did as she asked.
Lucy straightened and shifted Theo so he rode higher on her back, then waded in her stocking feet through the mud that sucked at her with each step.
Theo would have been sucked into the muck and might not have made it through.
Each step dragged at her, but she finally made it to the side of the boat and held it with one hand to steady it as Theo set the basket and waterskin in, then climbed off her back onto one of the boat’s wooden seats.
Lucy untied the rope holding the boat to the wharf and tossed it into the boat, then summoned all her strength and gave the boat a shove into the water.
As it moved away from the bank, she yanked her skirts up in one hand and used the other to hop in, legs hanging over the side until Theo helped her pull her petticoats weighted with mud and water into the boat.
Mud squished between her stocking-covered toes and coated her petticoats halfway to her knees.
Lucy wiped her feet as best she could on her petticoats, slipped on her shoes, settled in the center seat, and picked up the oars.
She had rowed a little boat on the pond at her grandparents’ farm plenty of times, but she had never tried rowing across a river.
If she couldn’t do it, it wasn’t just her in danger, but also Theo.
“You keep watch, Theo. I’ll row,” Lucy said, putting her back into the effort as she forced her arms and shoulders into motion.
Every muscle in her body screamed in protest as they crossed the river, but she kept rowing, watching the city of Philadelphia grow smaller as they neared the New Jersey shore.
“Keep going, Lucy. We’re almost there,” Theo said, then patted her on the shoulder. “We need to go to the left.”
She altered direction, and Theo smacked her on the back. “The other left!”
Lucy bit her tongue to swallow down a retort and again changed direction, then rowed hard, hoping the bank was near because she was spent.
Just then, she felt the oars hit the silty bottom near the bank and knew they had made it. If they weren’t trying to quietly make their way to the stable, she would have shouted in exultation.
As it was, she made a final row, pleased when the boat bumped into the bank. She had barely settled the oars beside her so they wouldn’t slip away in the water when the boat was given a tug that nearly toppled her off her seat.
She looked over her shoulder to see Theo staring at a man in the uniform of a Redcoat who stood on the riverbank. His musket was held by another soldier just slightly up the bank, waiting out of the mud.
“Cheery-ho! You appeared to need a hand, lovely miss and young lad,” the soldier said, offering Lucy a broad smile.
She forced herself to smile as she stood and picked up the basket that had been in the bottom of the boat beneath Theo’s seat. “Thank you, sir. My brother and I came over to visit our grandmother. She’s not well, and our mother sent a basket of food for her.”
“Is that so?” the soldier asked, offering Lucy a hand as she stepped out of the boat as elegantly as she could manage with mud in her shoes and coating her petticoats.
Theo climbed out of the boat so close to Lucy, she worried he would step on her petticoats and pull them off.
The soldier released her hand long enough to pull the boat higher onto the bank so it wouldn’t be in danger of drifting off.
“Why didn’t you ride the ferry?” the second soldier asked as Lucy and Theo followed the first to where he stood, rigid and stiff, eyeing them like they were dressed in Continental Army uniforms.
“We have the boat and are capable of rowing it. My brother, Maxwell, thinks it is great fun. Don’t you, Max?”
Theo nodded his head, acting as though he were mute, though Lucy knew he was simply scared speechless.
“Max, is it? Well, I’m Sergeant Bradford, and this scowling fellow is Corporal Spencer. Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just put out that I bested him at a game of cards,” the sergeant said, winking at Theo. “May we escort you somewhere, miss?”
“No, but thank you for the offer. It’s most kind of you.”
The sergeant removed his hat and bowed nobly to Lucy. “And should fortune smile down upon us and cross our paths again, might I know your name, beautiful miss?”
“Mercy Browne,” Lucy said, the lie sliding easily off her tongue. She tipped her head politely to Sergeant Bradford while the toothpick case in her pocket felt like it might scorch her skin.
“Miss Mercy Browne, it was a great pleasure to meet you. May you find your grandmother in good health and spirits.”
“Thank you, kind sir. Enjoy your evening,” she said, mindful of the minutes trickling away.
Branch had told her she needed to be back before dark, and she could understand the wisdom of that.
She did not want to row that stupid boat back across the river, especially if the daylight were gone.
“Come along, Max.” She took Theo’s hand in hers and tugged him forward.
They walked in silence up to where the ferry boarded and followed the road in the direction Branch had given her for locating the stables.
It didn’t take long to reach it. Inside, the smell of horses and leather mingled with manure in a pungent odor that was nearly overwhelming. Theo wrinkled his nose, but didn’t comment as they stepped farther into the building.
A man who looked to be about Branch’s age moved out of a stall with a pitchfork in his hand. “You lost, miss?”
“No. I don’t believe so. We’re looking for Mr. Whitley.”
“Are you, now?” the man said, leaning the pitchfork against a stall and taking a stained handkerchief from his pocket and wiping at the moisture on his brow. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m Whitley.”
“A friend sent us. He said you’re quite partial to sassafras tea, particularly when enjoyed with a view of the creek.” Branch had told her his code name was Creek, and to use it in conjunction with her code name.
Whitley winked at Theo and nodded his head to Lucy. “That I am.” He motioned to the stalls behind him. “Would you like to see the horses?”
“Yes, please!” Theo said, finally finding his tongue.
Lucy gave him an indulgent look, and the two of them followed Whitley into a stall halfway down the wide aisle that held a pony. The man picked up Theo and set him on the back of the animal.
“That’s Mildred. She’s more of a pet than anything,” Whitley said, then moved beside Lucy.
She took the toothpick case from her pocket and slid it into his hand.
He quickly shoved it into his pocket, then glanced behind them. The stables remained quiet, but she could sense his unrest.
“We should be going. My grandmother is waiting near the creek for our return.” Lucy glanced at the basket full of food. “Would you care for anything?”
“I certainly would. Thank you.” Whitley carried a stool into the stall for Lucy to sit on while he leaned against the wall and ate the meat, bread, and cheese like he had been starving.
He was about to bite into a peach, but Lucy took it from his hand.
“They aren’t quite ripe. Leave them on a windowsill for another day or so before you eat them. ”
“I’ll do that,” Whitley said, pulling out a molasses cake.
He ate it slowly, as though it were a rare treat and wanted to savor every bite.
When he finished, he brushed the crumbs from his face and hands with the questionably clean handkerchief, then smiled at Lucy.
“That was the best food I’ve had in a while. Thank you.”
Three molasses cakes, four figs, and a summer apple were still in the basket. Lucy took her own handkerchief from her pocket, wrapped the cakes in it, and handed all the food to Whitley. “Be safe,” she whispered, then stood and motioned for Theo to climb off the pony.
“Thank you for letting me sit on your horse,” Theo said, beaming at the man.