A More Perfect Union: Emily's Vow Part 11

"Major." Frank's face remained neutral while he a.s.sessed the officer before him.

"Captain Thomson, how fortunate you're here as well. We have unfinished business, you and I." Bradley glared at Frank, then dragged his gaze back to Davis. "I understand you brought an interesting a.s.sortment into port."

"If you be into dead reptiles." A puff of smoke rose from the pipe bowl, masking Davis's wary eyes.

"Nothing contraband." Frank puzzled over what possible business existed between them. His plans for the ultimate return of his brother's house stayed unknown to the man, so that couldn't be the matter at hand. Why did the b.a.s.t.a.r.d care about the s.h.i.+pment anyway? Bradley did not perform inspections. "I requested those preserved animals for my personal study."

Bradley's stony eyes narrowed. Sniffing, he smirked at Frank. "Indeed. I had no idea you, a mere newsman, entertained ambitions of a scholar."

Coiled tension gripped Frank's innards, but he gazed steadily at Bradley, pretending to wait patiently for him to continue. Inside he seethed at the slight. How dare he? This d.a.m.ned turncoat did not deserve to live. Frank forced himself to not react to the man's att.i.tude. He could not reveal his true feelings or face imprisonment. Masquerading as a loyalist enabled him to protect his family and their property from the vengeful hands of the enemy, as well as provide the inside information needed to win this war. But it didn't mean he liked the sham.

Davis coughed, breaking the silence stretching tightly between the two men.

As if coming out of a trance, the turncoat shrugged lightly. "I'm sure you gentlemen are busy, so I won't detain you longer than necessary. Captain Davis, if you'd be so good as to produce your s.h.i.+p's manifest for my inspection." He held out a hand, open palm ready to accept the requested papers. When Davis did not move, he snapped his fingers twice and again held his hand out.

Frank balled his hands at his sides, twitching with eagerness to find purchase on Bradley's face.

Davis pulled his pipe from his mouth, a frown replacing the indifferent expression he'd worn. "Me manifest has already been inspected and stamped, as you well know, sir."

Why did Bradley need to see the manifest? Although apparently aware of s.h.i.+ps coming and going, the major's rank held him above the task of import s.h.i.+ps' inventories or challenging the captains regarding their cargo. What did Bradley want and why? His stomach tightened at the thought of Bradley discovering the special item, the smallest box in the entire s.h.i.+pment, yet the most valuable. Much rested on Frank along with his friend and fellow patriot spy, Benjamin Hanson, delivering one small silver box into the right hands.

"Come now, Captain, that is not possible." The grimace transformed into gloating. "Surely, you do not think I was aware even of your arrival until now?"

Davis scowled at the major, the s.h.i.+p captain's shoulders hunched against the mist settling onto his hair and beard. "You ordered the men to board me s.h.i.+p at the mouth of the harbor. The poor crew nearly drowned at the mixing point of the Cooper and Ashley with the open sea and trying to navigate them waters."

Bradley barked a mirthless laugh. "Nonsense. Now, produce the papers or face the consequences."

Knowing those consequences meant Davis would go to jail, and likely hang if the blasted turncoat inspected the cargo too closely, Frank squared his shoulders, preparing to settle the dispute.

If it came to blows, so be it.

He could use a little fun.

"Major Bradley, if I may," Frank said. "You have my word as an officer. I have seen the approved manifest and, at any rate, the goods are now well on their way."

"On their way where?" Bradley bit out, hands on both hips now.

With an effort, Frank maintained a relaxed position, flexing his fingers slowly. He shrugged. "Into storage, if you must know. I'll not display them until this dispute ends."

"Yes, once the British quell this uprising."

Frank shook his head before he could stop himself. Bradley apparently operated under the false impression that the British had any hope of winning the war. Despite having lost many battles, the Americans held all but two cities now. In a matter of months America would secure its independence once and for all. In the meantime he must maintain the farce he played or risk revealing his mission. He a.s.sumed a bored expression. "I simply do not want to chance damaging the items."

Droplets of condensed fog clung to Frank's hair and beaded on his wool cloak as he waited for the b.a.s.t.a.r.d to speak.

"Your newfound allegiance will only protect you so far," the b.l.o.o.d.y turncoat said.

"Far enough to ensure the safety of my personal property." Frank's hand curled into a fist, though obscured by the drape of his cloak.

"Perhaps, but it does not allow you to interfere in the king's business."

Frank dipped his head once, hiding the anger building inside him as he schooled his expression. "Granted. You're acting on his behalf?"

Hard green eyes drilled into Frank's steely gaze. "If you talk with Miss Emily's father, tell him I'm watching him. You may be off the hook, because you signed that oath of allegiance and fealty to the king, and I don't possess evidence to the contrary. Yet. But if Captain Sullivan makes one false move, I will arrest him for treason."

This discussion headed into treacherous waters Frank preferred to avoid. Suspicion of his or Joshua Sullivan's actions by this b.a.s.t.a.r.d could only lead to more trouble. The air sizzled with tension. Bradley glared at him, and Davis s.h.i.+fted beside him. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d really thought he could be a true adversary. Bradley was simply a bully. Frank forced his fist open.

"May we go?" Frank would rather walk away than risk charges of attacking this peon. Yet the prospect of landing a fist on his face continued to tempt him.

"Be careful what company you keep, Captain Thomson, because I'll be watching." With that, Bradley swung around, his cape billowing around him, and stalked away.

"Pleasant fellow," Davis said sarcastically around his pipe stem. He remained silent until Bradley could no longer be seen through the fog. "What now?"

"Now we tend our business." Frank shook his hand. "And Captain?"

"Aye?"

"You heard the man. Watch your back."

The grizzled man winked at him before striding off into the dissipating wisps of fog.

Frank watched his longtime business partner disappear into the mist before shrugging off the encounter with Bradley. Benjamin should be back in town ere long to take over control of the special s.h.i.+pment. And none too soon for Frank's peace of mind. The mysterious little box had already brought unwanted trouble into his life.

"I can't believe the old women think Frank will have inside information about privateers, or who the British suspect to be one." Emily grumbled to Samantha as they walked home from the sewing circle behind the two black men, sworn to ensure they arrived unharmed, later that afternoon. Frank had urgent business to attend to and could not accommodate her request to go to the sewing circle. Richard and Solomon strode easily in front of them, despite trundling a wheelbarrow filled with the pieces of the loom back toward Emily's home. The sun dipped behind the houses, and Emily quickened her steps. If she hurried, she'd be home early enough to s.n.a.t.c.h some writing time before dinner.

"Watch what you say." Samantha chuckled, easily matching her pace. "Whether true or not, one of them may hear you."

"I don't care." She did, actually, but at the moment, with no one around, Emily felt safe to say what she thought. On that topic at least.

"You will if it comes to pa.s.s. How would your opinions reflect on your father's upbringing of you?"

"Hurry and we won't have to worry about being overheard."

"We're practically running down the street now." Samantha lengthened her stride to match Emily's quick march. "We don't want to overtake the blacks after all. What's the rush?"

"I have tasks to take care of before dinner." Emily strode past several two-story houses with shuttered windows, thoughts whirling through her head. Homes in Charles Town boasted a variety of wide front steps or side entrances through a porch, with a hitching rail or post at the street's edge to receive visitors' horses. Most homes included a garden beside or behind the house, used for growing vegetables and fruits as well as flowers.

How could she discreetly ask Frank what he knew so he did not suspect the motives behind her interrogation? She wondered how much to reveal about Aunt Lucille's and Amy's smuggling efforts. Did he know they were smuggling? If not, she didn't want to be the one to tell him. He printed the broadside, so maybe he did know something useful. But drawing secrets out of him had been a challenge as long as she'd known him.

They had first met while in their late teens, after she and Elizabeth moved into town for a proper lady's education, which meant needlework and music and how to run a household. Their father had introduced them to Jedediah and Frank at church one stormy summer morning. Emily's eyes had met Frank's, and she couldn't refrain from seeking out those steely depths, again and again. His infectious smile had summoned a response from deep inside her. Even though he seemed to share his deepest thoughts as his eyes connected with hers, his feelings hid safely from scrutiny.

Perhaps he made such a trustworthy spy and officer because of the many layers of his personality. Now, how to prompt him to reveal details about possible crimes by her father without telling him why she needed to know confounded her.

Climbing the few steps to the piazza, she heard Tommy crying. They had resolved his stomach ailments, thanks to the basil tea. What now? Pus.h.i.+ng open the door, she stepped inside, Samantha close behind.

"Thank goodness you're here!" Jasmine rushed down the short hallway. Tommy squalled in her arms, his mouth open, tears streaming down his face. "He's been snake bit!"

"What?" A charge swept through Emily hearing Tommy's pain-soaked wails. It tore at her heart as his eyes met hers and he cried harder.

"A snake-in his cradle." Jasmine paused for breath, tears trailing down her cheeks, too, as she handed over the red-faced child into Emily's waiting arms.

"His cradle? How?" Fear replaced the pain. She frantically searched the boy for signs of the telltale puncture.

"I dunno!" Jasmine cried. "He started wailing and when I went to check on him, the snake slithered under the drapes in his room. I shouldn't of left him!"

"It's not your fault. What do we do for him?" Emily glanced at Samantha.

The child continued to bawl but interspersed his vocal hurt with hiccups of tortured breaths. Memory of the ten-year-old daughter of a neighbor last year who died from the bite of a snake flashed through her mind. The girl perished in her despairing mother's arms within hours. Emily tightened her grip on the boy. She wouldn't let that happen to him.

"I'll make a fleabane salve." Samantha pulled her red leather pouch of dried herbs around in front of her and rummaged within its depths, trotting down the hall toward the kitchen.

Emily barely noticed her departure as she tried to calm the baby, all the while searching frantically for the puncture wound. "Where is the bite?"

Jasmine yanked up the sleeve of the gown and showed where the fangs had left two round punctures. A red knot surrounded the bite. She placed a hand lightly on the wound area, and it warmed her palm. Poor baby.

"Get me a rag and some water," Emily ordered. "Hurry!"

Jasmine raced away, her tiny shoes pounding on the floor boards. Emily cuddled the baby as she trailed the girl down the hall. She headed for the dining room, where a fire always burned with a chair placed nearby. Her legs felt like water. "You'll be fine, Tommy. I promise."

Where had that vermin come from? Snakes didn't normally frequent the garden or venture into the house. She rocked Tommy in her arms, crooning softly to him, rea.s.suring him. And herself. He would be all right. He had to be. She wouldn't fail in meeting the expectations of the boy's dead parents nor his current father, Frank.

Jasmine hurried into the room with a cloth and a basin. Emily took the cloth from her, soaked it with water, squeezed it out, and laid it on the wound, trying to ease the pain until Samantha returned.

"I hope this helps," Emily said. "I'm not sure it will."

"Miss Samantha will come back soon, miss." Jasmine took the cloth and soaked it again, wringing it out before handing it back.

The back door banged open. Samantha strode into view, a small bowl in one hand, her mother following her.

"It is good for him to cry so," Mrs. McAlester said.

"Mrs. McAlester, what a surprise to see you!" Emily forced a polite smile, wondering how she heard of Tommy's troubles so quickly. "What brings you here?"

"I was walking to the printing office to place an ad for my services, when I saw Samantha out back in your herb garden and stopped to see if she'd care to join me." The woman peered at Tommy, leaning in close to inspect the wound. Her head blocked Samantha's view of the child until Emily waved for Samantha to move closer. Cynthia frowned and pulled back, glaring at her daughter. "She told me what happened. I thought I might be able to help."

"He's alive, that's what is important." Emily exposed the arm to show Samantha the puncture. "I'm glad you're here. You always know what to do."

"Not always." Mrs. McAlester slid a look at her daughter. "She's not using the proper herbal combination for this, but I can't convince her of that."

"Mother, you're mistaken." Samantha held Emily's gaze for a long moment. "Trust me, friend, this will work to counter the poison in his system."

Confused by the bickering between mother and daughter, Emily relied on her instincts and her friend. "I do trust you. Please, go ahead."

"Obstinate, that's what you are." Mrs. McAlester shook her head. "I wouldn't have used fleabane in that mix, that's for certain. Snakeroot. That's what you need. Don't say I didn't tell you, though."

Emily caught the hesitation in her friend and smiled at her.

Samantha tipped her head and silently smeared the paste onto the boy's arm. "That should help."

A weary sigh came from Mrs. McAlester, and she shook her gray head again, her bun wobbling within its bonnet. "I can see I'm not wanted here, so I'll be on my way." She glared at her daughter, gathering her purse in her hands. "I'll see you at home."

"Farewell, Mrs. McAlester." Emily tried to smooth over the tension in the room but failed. "Thank you for your concern."

"Let me know if you need my help," Mrs. McAlester said tersely. "I've served this family for many years without complaint."

"I understand, ma'am. Thank you. It's meant the world to my father."

Mrs. McAlester stared at her. "I've done my best for him all these years, despite the troubles we've had. Such tragedies to endure." She sighed and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. "Is the Allhallows dinner still on for next week?"

"Yes, we'll have it despite all that happened this year." Emily glanced at the gold band on her finger. Elizabeth had loved the celebration for her entire life, and Emily refused to end the tradition now. "Elizabeth would have wanted us to enjoy the food and friends, I'm sure."

Mrs. McAlester nodded as she glanced at Samantha. "We'll be there, as usual then."

After she left, Emily turned to Samantha. "What's the matter? You frowned at her the entire time."

"I'd rather not say until I know more," Samantha said.

"About?" Emily's curiosity piqued when her friend became so mysterious.

Samantha shook her head, her lips tight. "Please don't press. Tell me how Tommy fares."

Since Samantha refused to talk about the exchange between mother and daughter, Emily followed her lead. "He's settling. Looks like your choice works despite your mother's doubts."

"She has her ways and I have mine. They don't always agree."

"It's wonderful we have so many who care to tend to this little boy."

Better than him being raised by strangers as he could have if Frank had not claimed him, he had the entire family and their friends looking out for him. Knowing others could step in and help eased some of the burden.

"Always a pleasure to be with this little guy." Samantha brushed a finger across the downy cheek. "He's like my own brother."

"I know you love him, maybe more than I do." Tommy squirmed in her arms, his cries weakening. She kept a firm hold of him, watching him settle even more as the initial shock faded. "How do you know so much about plants and medicines? Did your mother teach you about them?"

Seeing Samantha's nod toward Jasmine, Emily looked at the young black woman. "Is the snake gone?"

"Yes, miss. Solomon took care of it, though he didn't much like it." She shook her head slowly, a mischievous grin forming on her face. "No, miss, he said 'twas like handling the devil himself."

"I want to keep a close eye on Tommy. Jasmine, please move Tommy's cradle into my room, near my bed, and make sure it is cleaned and prepared for him. I'm sure he'll need it before long."

"Yes, miss." She bobbed a curtsy and withdrew.

Emily waited until the door closed. "You were saying, Samantha?"

"I learned much of what I know from my mother. But I also spent time with a Cherokee medicine man while I... visited my grandmother earlier this year."

Emily noticed the slight hesitation in her friend's explanation. "You talked with the Indians? Why would you do such a dangerous thing?"