Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution (44 page)

David and
Sophie sprinted for the approaching men.
 
David outdistanced her.
 
His gag
loosened.
 
"Run, old man!
 
Redcoats disguised as
Continentals!"
 
Thunder rumbled to
the south.

Sophie heard
pursuit and Mathias's yell from near a warehouse.
 
"Run, Will, it's a trap!"

Will and the
young Frenchman dashed back the way they'd come.
 
Two marines bolted past Sophie, and a third hauled her back
around.
 
She thrashed, losing the lace
veil in the process, and gaining a horrified glimpse of both assassins from
Casa
de la Sangre Legítima
descending on her father and the Frenchman, knives
drawn.
 
Fairfax stormed past her with
the remaining men.
 
"I want all of
them aboard — St. James, Dusseau, the assassins!"

Don Alejandro
and his men retreated for the city gates, unable to reach their targets through
the knot of marines.
 
The church bells
were still pealing — not proclaiming a quarter hour, but ringing alarm over
Havana.
 
From the gates, musket-bearing
Spanish soldiers spewed onto the wharf.
 
Leading the way ran Arriaga, pointing at Fairfax.
 
"¡
Británicos, allí, allí
!"
 
Sailors gaped.
 
Merchants dove for cover.

A Creek war
whoop followed a pistol shot and more thunder.
 
Half-thrown into the schooner, Sophie squirmed around in time to spot
Mathias, his tomahawk raised, bowling El Serpiente off her father.
 
André Dusseau lay unmoving on the
wharf.
 
One marine had tackled David,
and the other had squared off with El Escorpión.
 
El Serpiente's screech of terror ended with one sharp tomahawk
blow.
 
Just before the marine hauled her
below, she heard a splash and glanced out into Bahía de la Habana.
 
Her father was swimming for his life toward
Castillo de San Carlos de la Cabaña.

The marine
flung her into a grimy cabin stinking of rotten fish.
 
A quarter minute later, David stumbled in, his gag in place.
 
The door slammed shut.
 
Bruised and sweating, they staggered to the
salt-crusted port light and peered out.
 
After more pounding footsteps and shouts from Fairfax to cast off, the
schooner was free of the dock, drifting out into the harbor, gathering the thunderstorm's
gusts in her sails.

From up on deck
came bumps and thumps and a groan of agony.
 
The cabin door whammed open again.
 
"I ought to kill you for that arrow, you half-breed bastard."
 
Fairfax, his breeches bloody, shoved a
bound, gagged, and semi-conscious Mathias into the cabin.
 
"Perchance I'll change my mind soon
enough.
 
The Straits of Florida is full
of sharks."
 
Fairfax sealed them
into the cabin.

With another
moan, Mathias rolled onto his side, his nose bleeding and one eye
swelling.
 
Sophie and David knelt at his
side.
 
Musket fire erupted from the
dock.
 
Fairfax and his men returned
fire.
 
The church bells grew more
faint.
 
Wind gusted.
 
Thunder boomed across the bay.
 
The schooner picked up speed.

Swivel guns
fired at them from the decks of docked ships, somehow missing the schooner's
masts, spars, and hull before she slipped from range.
 
Sophie rose and returned to the port light.
 
Through salt spray and filth, she saw
Spanish soldiers swarming the wharf.
 
Two raindrops streaked the glass.
 
A man, not a soldier, stood still in the midst of activity where the
schooner had docked, holding something and gazing out at the schooner.
 
From his dignified carriage, she recognized
Arriaga, the parasol and veil in his hands.
 
Tears sprang to her eyes.

She peered
forward, expecting the schooner to be caught in lethal crossfire between the
two
castillos
at the mouth of Bahía de la Habana.
 
But a Spanish warship was entering the
harbor at the same time the schooner exited.
 
The Spaniards wouldn't risk catching their own ship in that crossfire, just
to capture a handful of redcoat spies.
 
No, the schooner was free.

Fairfax had
passed himself and British soldiers off as Continentals deep in enemy Spanish
territory.
 
He had killed an enemy
Frenchman in a duel, captured what he believed were rebel spies, and escaped
with them in his custody.
 
His actions
had crippled, if not crushed, the chance of a formal alliance between Spain and
the American rebels — if such an alliance had ever been more than the Rightful
Blood's clever ruse.

Fairfax was
the stuff of which national heroes were made.
 
Months after his captives had ended their lives upon the gallows, the
London
Chronicle
would still be praising him.
 
Sophie bowed her head and wept.

Chapter Thirty-Four

HALF AN HOUR
after the schooner escaped Havana, a marine entered the cabin to deliver food
and water and remove gags and bonds.
 
The schooner would rendezvous with the
Zealot
around sunset.
 
Unless the prisoners desired to be placed in
irons, they must remain in the cabin for the voyage and not resist.

After the
marine left, they regarded each other and worked cramps from their shoulders
and jaws.
 
Each passing second of
silence tightened the tension for Sophie.
 
How would she and David break the news to Mathias about Jacques?

The blacksmith
fingered his nose and fumbled in his waistcoat for a handkerchief.
 
David whipped out his own, his voice
soothing.
 
"Here, have mine."

Sophie whisked
the handkerchief from David, dribbled water on it, and dabbed it beneath
Mathias's nose.
 
"Does that
hurt?
 
I don't think your nose is
broken, but you'll definitely have a black eye."
 
She wiped the corner of his mouth.
 
"Your lip is cut.
 
You didn't lose any teeth, did you?"

Mathias guided
her hand away from his face.
 
"Enough."
 
His voice
hushed.
 
"My uncle is dead, isn't
he?"

David
scowled.
 
"Fairfax killed him at
Hernandez's mansion."

"Then I
shall kill Fairfax.
 
Jonah was
tcusi
,
younger brother.
 
I was expected to take
care of him.
 
But my uncle was
pawa
,
my mother's brother.
 
The people respect
pawa
the way you respect your father.
 
Pawa
teaches a boy much of what he needs to know as a man, looks
after him, disciplines him.
 
My uncle
was the only father I knew, the man I respected above all others.
 
I
must
avenge his death."

Sophie
reconsidered the afternoon at the swimming hole and Mathias's scarred
shoulder.
 
She'd never understood why he
tolerated Jacob's abuse and wondered if he was afraid of Jacob.
 
But cowardice didn't inhabit Mathias's
soul.
 
His Creek perspective enabled him
to disregard Jacob because he wasn't of consequence.
 
Neither "father" nor "stepfather" mattered as
much as "uncle."
 
Jacques,
pawa
,
was the man who had mattered.

David
growled.
 
"You'll have to beat me
to Fairfax first."

Sophie's heart
sank.
 
Mathias frowned at David.
 
"Why so?"

"I learned
what Sophie was reluctant to tell us about her encounter with him in Cow
Ford.
 
He tried to force her —"

"David,
please —"

"Please,
my arse!
 
The mongrel threw you in the
volanta
with him this afternoon and had his way with you for the entire ride."

Mathias
glowered.
 
"Sophie, is that
true?"

Chivalry was
alive and well.
 
"Did I look as
though I'd been abused when I stepped out of the
volanta
at the
harbor?"
 
But she didn't sound
convinced, even to herself.

"I know he
pawed you, and the gods only know what hell he put your mind through."

"Your
brother's right.
 
The son of a whore
needs to die in the most excruciating manner possible."

Greater than
her fear for herself was her fear for David and Mathias, who were taking the
bait Fairfax had set for them.
 
She
gripped an ear on both men.
 
"Listen to me!
 
He cannot
destroy my integrity."
 
Perhaps if
she said it often enough, she might believe it.
 
After all, in three weeks, she'd learned much about freedom,
dignity, and honor from her traveling companions, Ulysses, Lila, and Miguel de
Arriaga.
 
Somewhere in that repository,
there must be a lesson on how not to surrender her soul.

Mathias and
David squirmed when she pinched harder.
 
"His worth before the world and in his own eyes depends on him
hauling
someone
back to the gallows after this chase."

"Dash it
all, Sophie, that hurts!
 
Stop it!"

"Indeed,
let go of my ear.
 
Do you fancy us
little boys?"

She released
them.
 
"I'd far rather have you
both alive and with me on the morrow than have you waste yourselves on a
monster that lusts to fight with anyone.
 
Oh, how he desires it.
 
He bloats
off blood like a mosquito.
 
Deny him
that satisfaction, and watch him diminish.

"And one
more point I must emphasize."
 
She
crossed her arms.
 
"Fairfax is
not
Britain."

David massaged
his ear.
 
"What are you getting
at?"

"Britain
has taxed us and lodged soldiers in every city and town, and I've seen the
thought in your eyes.
 
Britain is the
only beast in this conflict.
 
Surely you
realize Fairfax has his counterparts in the other armies, though I've not had
the misfortune to make their acquaintance."

Mathias
nodded.
 
"War grants all manner of
demons permission to slither into the upper world."

"Exactly."
 
While the blacksmith walked to the port
light and peered out, David gave Sophie a rueful smile.
 
The schooner swayed in the cradle of the
Florida Straits.
 
She said,
"Mathias, you'd best have a bite to eat."

His voice
sounded distant.
 
"I'm not
hungry."

She walked over
beside him.
 
His eyes had focused on
something remote.
 
Her heart ached.
 
"You killed El Serpiente, so you've
taken care of Jonah,
tcusi
."
 
Mathias wasn't satisfied.
 
She
slid her hand up his arm to his shoulder.
 
"Although my way is not your way in this matter, I respect your
need to avenge your kinsmen.
 
I'm sure
you know that Jonah won't be coming back, no matter how many assassins you
kill."
 
When he tried to pull away,
she flung her arms around him, her eyes shut.
 
"Hear your uncle's final words: 'I love Mathias as
hopwiwa
,
son of my sister.
 
Tell him so.'"

He stiffened.
 
"No, not yet —"

"'It has
done my old heart much good to know you two have finally found your way back
together.'"

A whisper tore
from his throat —"No!"— before the tension in his body released into
a sob.
 
He crushed her to him.
 
David wrapped an arm around his shoulder,
and they stood that way for a long time, triumvirate grief in a current too
sweeping for them ever to have swum.
 
At
length, Mathias's swollen whisper emerged from the embrace.
 
"Tell me Will escaped."

David nodded,
his tone subdued.
 
"Yes, he
did."

She stroked
Mathias's face.
 
"You saved his
life."
 
And she, gazing into her
brother's damp eyes, wondered whether they'd see their father alive again.

***

Just after dusk
had gloomed over their prison, the cabin door banged open, and three marines
entered.
 
The prisoners blinked in
lantern light.
 
Behind the men limped
Fairfax.
 
"Good news, rebels.
 
In ten minutes, I shall have the honor of
escorting you aboard the
Zealot
and housing you in the customary style
for prisoners of war."
 
He gestured
toward the door.
 
"Your presence on
deck is now mandatory."