Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution (28 page)

"
Non
.
 
I sailed back to France with the story that
Madeleine was pregnant and could not travel.
 
Aunt's health was failing.
 
She
accepted my story.
 
In exchange for her
blessings, I was to marry a girl from a minor aristocratic family."

"You're
married
?"

Slyness creased
the corners of his eyes.
 
"Two
weeks before the wedding, Aunt died.
 
Back I went to America, before the girl, her father, and the village
priest could tie me down for vows."

Aware that her
jaw dangled in surprise, Sophie close it.
 
"You and Madeleine still inherited the estate?"

"We
inherited the estate."

"Well, how
do you like that?
 
Susana was right
about you concealing a fortune somewhere."

"Bah.
 
Men have made bigger fortunes here
overnight.
 
But I will be certain to
tease her about it when next I see her."
 
They both snickered a moment before Jacques sobered.
 
"My nephew isn't at rest with
himself."

"True.
 
He's created masterpieces at the forge and
built a bridge of peace between two civilizations, but he allows himself little
pride in his accomplishments."
 
Why
had Mathias told her two nights before that he had no material assets to offer
her?
 
"Does he know about the
estate?"

"
Mais
oui.
 
Bien sur
.
 
Mathias does not hunger for wealth of
substance.
 
He hungers for wealth of
spirit.
 
Something to fill the treasury
of his soul, the companionship of people who appreciate his worth and accept
him as he is.
 
And a partner."

"Many of
us hunger for that.
 
How hard it must
have been for him when Teekin Keyta died."

"
Oui
,
but she was not his partner.
 
He did not
love her."

She
frowned.
 
"He married her.
 
I thought surely —"

"For at
least ten years I have wondered."
 
Jacques caught her hand in his.
 
"Your daughter resembles my sister."

She pondered
who else besides her parents might have seen the resemblance.
 
Jacob Hale?
 
Jonah and Joshua?
 
David and
Susana?

Jacques nodded,
wise.
 
"I see.
 
We will leave it at that."

"Yes,"
she whispered.
 
"Let's leave it at
that."

***

They broke camp
Monday before daybreak, everyone sensing the journey's end by the following
evening.
 
With dawn came the view of
cattle ranches and indigo plantations to the west, palmettos cluttering the
sandy soil, and curtains of moss choking live oaks and cypress trees.
 
Dawn also brought company.
 
The broad avenue they traveled, known as the
King's Highway, led to St. Augustine through the Crown-held settlement of Cow
Ford, supporting far more traffic than the road between Augusta and Savannah.

Early that afternoon,
with sun and humidity smothering them like a giant forge, they crossed Thomas
Creek.
 
A mile south, soldiers had
blockaded the highway in both directions.
 
Before they reached the roadblock, David, riding at the rear, trotted
his horse and the horse he towed up front.
 
"All right, everyone follow my lead."

Jacques, riding
beside Sophie, chuckled.
 
"Your
brother never ceases to amaze me with the fiction he spins."

She regarded
David's sweaty back.
 
"You wouldn't
believe the number of times our parents swallowed that fiction."

"I would
indeed."

They pulled up
before wooden barricades.
 
A
sweat-drenched ensign emerged from a scrap of shade shared with several other
soldiers.
 
"Good afternoon.
 
Sorry to detain you, but we've a bit of
trouble in these parts with cattle thieving the last week."
 
He swelled his chest, face florid in the
heat.
 
"Bother.
 
It's the most those rebels can manage."

Indignation
screwed up David's expression.
 
"My
property agent never told me East Florida had that sort of problem with rebel
scum.
 
I shall box the fellow's ears
when I see him next."

"The
problem is but infrequent, and we've hanged quite a few of the thieves."

"Jolly
good show."
 
David layered on the
ire.
 
"Cattle thieving.
 
Hrumph.
 
Fortunately my concern is with indigo."

"Ah, yes,
sir."
 
The ensign nodded to a
scribe, who dipped his quill in an inkwell and readied paper.
 
"We're recording information about all
travelers in the area.
 
Please state
your name, destination, and business."

"Daniel
Hazelton.
 
That's my sister, Sarah, her
husband, Mark, and his father, Jonathan."

Sophie
refrained from glancing at Mathias.
 
So
she was his wife
again
.
 
He must
be squirming.

"We've
brought household slaves and native guides to help us through Georgia and East
Florida."
 
The ensign eyed Lila's
baby.
 
"The baby came Friday night,
five weeks early."

"I hear a
great deal of riding will do that.
 
I
take it you're from the Carolinas, then?"

David
nodded.
 
"North Carolina."

"And your
destination and business in East Florida, sir?"

"Cow Ford.
 
I'm not satisfied with the returns I'm
getting from naval stores, and frankly, the winters in North Carolina are
bloody cold.
 
Far worse than what Mother
England hands out.
 
Been researching
indigo.
 
My agent has property picked
out for us to inspect.
 
If we like what
we see, I shall sell my business, buy into indigo, and move south."

"Very
good, sir.
 
I wish you success.
 
You may proceed.
 
Thank you for your time."
 
The ensign stepped aside, pulling the barrier open with him.
 
Sweat streamed down his face.
 
"Oh, I should advise you that the
summers in East Florida are as ferocious as you claim the winters in North
Carolina to be."

David laughed
and motioned Sophie and the others through.
 
"This heat is marvelous."
 
While sucking in a deep breath, he straightened in his saddle and
slapped his palm to his chest.
 
"And that salty air — so invigorating!"

From the
revulsion on his face, the ensign found East Florida an antechamber to
hell.
 
"It isn't even the hottest
part of the season, yet."

"Excellent!
 
This venture sounds better and
better!"
 
The ensign shook his head
in disbelief, and David paraded his gelding past.
 
"Oh, can you recommend an inn of distinction in Cow
Ford?"

"Try the
Lark and Dove, sir."

David tipped
his hat.
 
"Many thanks.
 
Good day!"

They passed
northbound travelers waiting at the blockade, and David caught up to Sophie
beaming as if he'd dropped live lizards down the shirts of a few redcoats.
 
"How was I?"

"A
consummate liar."
 
The smirk she'd
been holding back seized her lips.
 
"I take it we shan't be staying at the Lark and Dove tonight."

"Indeed,
no.
 
Major Hunt might search the Lark
and Dove to his heart's delight, but we shall be long gone from town."

***

Cow Ford, named
for a narrow point on the St. Johns River, had sprung up near ruins of Fort
Caroline, site of the Spaniards' massacre of French Huguenots two centuries
earlier.
 
Sophie and the others stepped
off the ferry Monday afternoon and assessed the kaleidoscope.
 
With all the Lower Creek Indians, Negroes,
redcoats, militia, plantation gentry, backwoodsmen, merchants and their wives
and children, ranchers, slatterns, and pickpockets in the dusty streets, no one
gave travelers from Georgia a second glance.
 
However, Sophie did notice the absence of Spaniards, so some selectivity
existed within the community.

They bypassed
the Lark and Dove at the heart of the commerce area and, farther south,
dismounted near three modest wooden taverns like the Red Rock in Alton.
 
All three were doing brisk business — horses
hitched in front, patrons smoking pipes on porches.
 
Sophie gestured to one tavern.
 
"The Wolf and the Dove.
 
Hmm.
 
Sounds too much like the
Lark and Dove.
 
That one isn't for
me."

"Indeed."
 
David stroked his chin.
 
"The Queen Charlotte.
 
I wonder whether anyone in there is playing
cards."

Jacques leered
across the street.
 
"Personally, I
prefer the implications of the Stocking and Slipper."

Amusement
livened Mathias's expression.
 
"We
shan't be here above two hours."

"I may be
old, but do you think I need two hours?"

In the next
second, the report of a pistol from the porch of the Queen Charlotte had all
eight adults ready to dive into the dust for cover.
 
They jerked around to discover the source of the shot.
 
David said, "Jesus, Mary, and
Joseph!"

Several patrons
on the porch guffawed.
 
A fat innkeeper
waved his pistol to clear black powder smoke and grinned at them.
 
"Five o'clock, and all's well!
 
Afternoon, folks!
 
You obviously ain't from round here.
 
My clock broke two years ago.
 
Come on in and refresh yourselves.
 
The wife just pulled bread from the oven."

Fresh
bread.
 
Sophie's mouth watered.
 
Nothing like a week on the trail to make one
appreciate simple comforts.

Jacques nudged
Mathias and gave the Stocking and Slipper across the street a nod.
 
"I shall butter my bread
elsewhere."

Sophie eyed the
Frenchman.
 
"We meet right here in
two hours."

Jacques smiled,
tipped his hat, and sauntered across the street with his horses.
 
David said to the innkeeper, "Anyone
playing piquet inside?"

"Yes, sir,
and there's a spot for you at the table."

David sighed, a
happy sound.
 
"I'm in."
 
He turned to Sophie and Mathias, a wicked
gleam in his eyes, and lowered his voice.
 
"I wonder how much interest I can earn on the rebels' bribe."

Sophie's eyes
widened.
 
"Those emeralds aren't yours."

"I've made
small fortunes for lenders."

Mathias
frowned, his voice also low.
 
"You
flash emeralds around, and you won't be leaving here in two hours."

David's smile
dazzled.
 
"Come in and watch me
manage it."

Mathias cast a
look at a smithy next door.
 
"Only
while I loosen the dust off my throat.
 
I've another site to visit."

Sophie assented
with a grumpy sigh.
 
David turned back
to the proprietor.
 
"What about our
slaves and Indian guides?"

"Indians
come on inside and get fed.
 
Slaves go
round the rear."
 
He bustled back
indoors.

The party went
forward to the hitching post of the Queen Charlotte and secured the horses so
each had access to the water trough.
 
After assuring everyone that they understood the timing, the Negroes
bowed their heads and shuffled around the side of the inn.
 
The others headed inside the tavern with
their saddlebags.

The first thing
Sophie saw through the tobacco smoke was a British flag covering most of one
wall.
 
Well, after all, Charlotte
was
King George's wife.
 
Next she noticed
five redcoats sprawled on chairs around a table, a dice game between them and
tankards before them.
 
They directed
languid interest at the newcomers, and after David waved a greeting, nodded and
returned to the dice.
 
Mathias's cousins
migrated to the rear of the tavern and three members of a Lower Creek
tribe.
 
David homed in on a corner table
populated by three civilians, one soldier, four tankards, and playing cards.

Sophie and
Mathias followed him and slid into a window seat nearby.
 
At the next table sat a plump young woman
accompanied by an even plumper older woman.
 
Both were fanning themselves and heavily rouged.