Rebellious Heart (10 page)

What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Her patriotic declarations were just what he needed at that moment to distract Lieutenant Wolfe from the trail he was pursuing, for the man was indeed getting much too close to the heart of the illegal activities.

The distilleries in Boston depended on the cheap tax-free molasses that was smuggled in. They needed it for making rum.

And it wasn’t that Ben approved of the rum. Even though the strong drink was used in preserving food and treating ailments, he’d also seen the effects of its overuse—many lives wasted as a result of imbibing too freely.

He’d wanted to speak out against the ill effects of strong drink, but the life of the colonies depended upon the income the rum brought. If the British cut off the smuggling, they would impoverish the colonies and make them even more dependent on their mother country.

And that was exactly what Ben and the other members in the Caucus Club were determined not to let happen.

“Miss Smith.” Lieutenant Wolfe gave a strained smile, one that was more of a grimace. “I would expect nothing less of this community than its utmost allegiance to His Majesty, King George the third. This is to be expected.”

“As it should be,” she said, tipping up the brim of her lovely hat.

“Parliament has commanded that General Gage search out and destroy any sedition. He’s been given the power to send any man involved in plotting revolt back to England to stand trial.”

Susanna’s response stalled as she glanced at Ben.

He wanted to frown at her, to tell her to continue with her passionate soliloquy of loyalty rather than giving the lieutenant more reason to suspect Ben’s seditious leanings. An arrest by the lieutenant would put a certain end to all his aspirations and hopes, for a trial in England would be nothing but a parody followed by certain death on the gallows.

Lt. Wolfe’s lips curled into a disdainful smirk. “Miss Smith, since you are such a loyal subject of the Crown, I expect you will be the first to report any signs of treachery.”

Ben’s pulse quickened. Susanna wouldn’t share her suspicions about him with this officer, would she? Surely she had more class and kindness than to betray him.

Susanna looked beyond the lieutenant to the young sergeant. He had the youthful features of a boy with freckles sprinkled across his pale face. Sprigs of wiry red hair had come loose from the tight braid at the back of his neck. His eyes held an apology, as if he was embarrassed by the lieutenant’s interruption of what probably appeared to be an intimate moment.

“How long will you and your soldiers be in Weymouth?” Susanna asked.

“As long as it takes,” Lieutenant Wolfe replied, his eyes fixed on Ben.

Ben smiled back at the lieutenant, hoping to prove to the proud man that he wasn’t so easily intimidated.

“Rest assured, Lieutenant,” Susanna said, “I will be the first to alert you should I have any knowledge of illegal activities.”

Irritation slithered through Ben. From everything he’d learned so far about Susanna, he had a feeling she truly would be the first to notify Lieutenant Wolfe of any smuggling, which meant he would have to guard what he said around her much better than he had so far.

The lieutenant only nodded at her briefly before spurring his horse and kicking more sand at them.

Once Lt. Wolfe had ridden away, Ben leaned back, rested his head against the blanket, and closed his eyes.

For a long moment, Susanna didn’t speak.

The gentle rush of ocean waves filled the silence between them, along with the occasional cry of a sea gull.

“Mr. Ross,” she started softly.

“Don’t ask me any questions. It’s quite clear the less I say around you, the better.”

“But you heard the lieutenant. Those harboring thoughts of rebellion against the king will only put themselves in grave trouble.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

“But
you
do.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Hence I prefer not to know your involvements. If I remain unaware, then I won’t have to report anything, will I?”

He snorted. “How very noble of you.”

“As opposed as I am to any kind of sedition, I certainly don’t want to see trouble befall you.”

“Liberty must be supported at all hazards,” he said, “even to life and limb.”

“But we already have liberty.” Her fervent voice hung above him.

He opened his eyes and found her leaning over him. In spite of his irritation, he couldn’t keep from admiring her pretty face above his, her flashing eyes and the sincerity of her expression. Did the narrow crease between her brows mean she was worried about him?

“We have only as much liberty as the king is willing to give,” Ben said, unable to restrain his tongue even though he
knew he should. “And true liberty shouldn’t be handed out by a king at his whim. Freedom is an inherent right we all have derived from our Maker. Our fathers have earned and bought it for us at the expense of their ease, their estates, their pleasure, and their blood.”

He expected one of her quick rebuttals. But her eyes were deep, murky pools, as if she were swimming in his words and trying to make sense of them.

Was there hope for her after all? Was she wise enough to listen and learn?

Perhaps more colonists would be willing to take a stand against British oppression if they learned to think for themselves. Perhaps he and Gridley and Otis and others like them needed to make more of an effort to educate the people. Was the true source of their suffering because they were timid—too afraid to read, think, speak, and write?

“Freedom as an inherent right,” she repeated, her lips seeming to taste the words.

He couldn’t keep from staring at her lips and the delicate way they formed around each of the words. What would it be like to kiss Susanna Smith? Would she hold herself stiff and offer him a peck like Hannah Quincy had done the last time he’d visited her?

Susanna hovered close enough that he could reach his arms up and easily bring her down on top of him for a kiss before she had time to realize what he was doing.

Would she pull away or would she melt into him with all the passion that simmered beneath the thin disguise of her gentility?

As if hearing his thoughts, her lips parted, just enough for her to release a soft, quick breath.

His gut twisted with the sudden overwhelming need to
test her passion, to find out for himself how she would react to him.

He lifted his fingers to the errant strand of her hair that had tantalized him earlier. He touched it, letting his fingers graze her neck in the process.

Her eyes widened.

He held her gaze, refusing to break the connection. He couldn’t think. All he knew was that he was reacting to this woman in a way he’d never responded to anyone else. His need to kiss her and mingle his breath with hers was so keen it almost made him tremble.

“You old dog!” Cranch’s boisterous voice sliced the thickness of the passion between them.

With a sharp intake of breath, Susanna pushed away from Ben, breaking his contact. She dipped the brim of her hat and hid her face.

The move was enough to awaken him from the spell she seemed capable of casting over him whenever they were alone together.

“Good thing Mary and I came back when we did,” Cranch called, walking swiftly toward them with Mary at his side. Cranch grinned at him wickedly.

A rush of embarrassment pushed Ben off his back. He sat up and tried to return what he hoped was a nonchalant grin.

“Maybe you two are in need of a chaperone more than we are.” Cranch’s teasing was merciless.

“I don’t know,” Ben called. “From all appearances, you were getting mighty cozy with Miss Smith.”

Mary blushed prettily.

Susanna was already making a move to rise.

Ben jumped to his feet and held out a hand to assist her to her feet.

Hesitantly she placed her fingers against his. Her touch was enough to make him forget reason again. And as he helped her stand, he couldn’t keep himself from leaning just a little closer and inhaling the sweetness of rose balm in her hair.

When she was solidly on her feet, he didn’t relinquish her fingers.

She gave him a shy smile. “I do hope you and Mr. Cranch will be joining us for dinner this evening.”

Cranch groaned. “I’m sorry to say, we won’t be able to stay. I’m very sorry, but Ben has promised Hannah Quincy we would join her at your grandmother’s house this evening.”

“Oh.” Susanna’s smile faltered. “Dear cousin Hannah.”

Ben shook his head at Cranch, warning him against saying anything else. But Cranch was looking only at Mary. “I promised Ben I’d go with him to visit his girl, so long as he agreed to come here with me so that I could see mine.”

Susanna slipped her fingers out of Ben’s, and her smile disappeared completely. “Your girl?”

Ben shrugged and tried to cast aside the guilt that suddenly plagued him. What could he say? He certainly couldn’t deny Cranch’s declaration, could he? He was pursuing Hannah at every possible opportunity. He’d set his attentions upon having her as his wife, and she’d been cooperating very nicely.

“Oh, that’s right,” Susanna said. “You’re bowing and scraping at Hannah’s feet.”

“I’ve never made any pretense about my interest in her.” But as his explanation left his mouth, it sounded weak, even to his own ears. If he wanted to pursue Hannah Quincy, why was he lying on the beach next to Susanna, longing to pull her in his arms and kiss her senseless?

“Of course you’ve not made any pretense.” Susanna stepped away from him. “You’ve made it quite clear you’re
just like all the other gentlemen seeking to better themselves by marrying after status and wealth.”

Susanna’s disapproval shoved against his chest. Perhaps he
was
seeking to better himself, but not for the reasons she believed. Not for himself alone.

Nevertheless, he shouldn’t have been so forward with Susanna. It wasn’t fair to her, and he certainly wasn’t exhibiting faithfulness in his ardor toward Hannah Quincy. If he hoped to win Hannah’s hand in marriage—which he surely did—then he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted.

He couldn’t lose sight of the bigger goal, the larger purpose he had planned for his life.

“I’m sorry, Susanna.”

But she’d already turned her back upon him.

He wanted to grab her, spin her around, and . . . and what?

Instead he folded his arms across his waistcoat, feeling the crinkle of her letter in the pocket, and forced himself to do the right thing.

He let her walk away.

The early morning mist snaked around Susanna. The chill of it soaked through the cloak she’d thrown over her nightdress.

She hadn’t dared to light a candle. Without the moon and stars to guide her, she stumbled over a twig buried among the damp leaves that carpeted her path.

The sharp poke against the soft satin of her slippers reminded her that Ben still hadn’t brought her new boots. Nor had he sent her a letter yet, even though several days had passed since their exchange on the beach.

She breathed out an exasperated sigh and stumbled again, this time bumping her outstretched hand against the barn. Her fingers made contact with the grainy weatherworn boards, and she shuffled along the wall until she found the side door.

Her insomnia had finally pushed her from bed. Unfortunately sleeplessness was a malady she suffered from all too often, but of late it had troubled her more frequently.

As she’d lain in bed wide awake, she decided it was past time to meet with Dotty again and find out more about the young woman. Perhaps Ben was waiting to write to her until
she provided him with the additional information he’d requested. He couldn’t very well advise her unless he knew more about the situation.

She paused at the door. From the mussed hay in the loft, she suspected Dotty had taken her offer to stay in the barn, but she hadn’t seen her there. Tom hadn’t seen the young woman either.

If Dotty had been staying in the barn, she’d certainly kept her presence clandestine—which was for the best, at least until Ben could advise them.

Susanna pushed open the door as stealthily as possible. Even so, the rusty hinges squeaked. With a cringe she glanced over her shoulder to the dark outline of the sprawling parsonage. If she didn’t make any noise and she didn’t stay overlong, she could return to the bed she shared with Mary before anyone awoke.

Leaving behind the chill of the autumn night, Susanna slipped through the door and let the damp warmth of the barn envelop her. The cows, horses, and sheep were quiet in their stalls. Though she couldn’t see them in the blackness of the interior, their soft snorts greeted her along with the familiar scents of animal flesh and freshly cut hay.

A soft thump in the loft overhead drew Susanna’s gaze upward. “Dotty?” she whispered, praying the noise came from Dotty and not merely the barn cat prowling on his nightly mousing.

Susanna stood still for a while, letting the faintness of dawn penetrate the inside of the barn through the crack in the open door. After several moments, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. And as she glanced around the barn, to the ladder that led to the loft, she could find no sign of Dotty.

“Dotty?” she whispered louder. “It is I, Susanna Smith. I have provisions for you.”

At her declaration, the scuffling overhead resumed, and after a moment a face peeked out from the loft, followed by the creaking of the ladder rungs as Dotty made her way down.

Susanna drew near the young woman. “How do you fare?”

“I’m getting by.” Her tone was weary. “I’m grateful to have a warm place to hide . . . I mean, sleep at night.”

Susanna untied the towel and retrieved one of the hard buns Phoebe had given her. “Here. Eat this.” She pushed it into Dotty’s hands.

Dotty tore off a hunk and stuffed it into her mouth. Susanna suspected it was the only food she’d had since the last visit.

“I’d hoped you were sleeping in the barn, but I wasn’t certain,” Susanna said. “But now that I know, I’ll leave something for you to eat in the loft.” It wouldn’t be illegal to place a few food items in the barn every day. Surely not.

“Thank you kindly, miss,” Dotty replied between bites. “You’re very kind.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Susanna hesitated. “Actually, if you’ll let me, I’d like to do more for you.”

“You’ve done enough already, miss. More than enough.”

Through the darkness, Susanna reached out and touched Dotty’s arm. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you, Dotty?”

The young woman stopped chewing and grew silent so that the whooshing breath of the nearby mare in her stall sifted around them.

“I want to help you,” Susanna continued before Dotty could pull away. “I have a friend who’s a lawyer. He’s compassionate and kind, and he’s indicated he may be willing to defend you—”

“I can’t pay a lawyer, miss. I’ve got nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Don’t concern yourself with the fees. We’ll take care of
everything.” Susanna wasn’t sure how, but that was the least of their worries at present.

Dotty let her hand fall to her side as if having lost her appetite for the half-eaten bun. “Why would you help me, miss? I’m just a poor woman on the run.”

“On the run from your master?”

Dotty took a step back. “It isn’t what you think.”

“I promise you’re safe with me,” Susanna said quickly. “It’s just that if I’m to help you, I must know more about your circumstances.”

The young woman didn’t say anything, and Susanna feared she might bolt past her and out into the early morning never to be seen again.

“If you’ve run away from your master, then you must have a reasonable explanation for why you did so. And if you would share your story with me, I’ll be able to relay the information to Mr. Ross.”

Dotty took another trembling step back.

“Please. I promise to keep your confidence. I won’t tell anyone except Mr. Ross, and only so that he might bring justice to your cause.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“You can’t live like this—running and hiding—forever. Don’t you want to have a normal life again? A home to live in? Certain work?”

“I can’t remember what normal is.” Dotty’s voice was hoarse. “I never had a real home, at least not that I remember. My brother and I lived wherever we could on the streets of London, until we were rounded up with some of the other children and put on a ship.”

“You poor dear,” Susanna murmured. She’d heard tales of young vagabonds being captured off the streets of London and
brought over to the colonies for use as indentured servants, but she’d never quite believed the stories.

“We didn’t know where we were going or what was happening to us till we arrived in Boston. And then I was sold for an indenture of seven years to Merchant Lovelace.”

Susanna searched her mind for the name, trying to find familiarity with it from the times she’d visited her aunt and uncle in Boston, but he was apparently not among the circles of her family’s association.

“I think my brother was sold to a farmer who lives on the distant borders of the colony. I haven’t heard from him in five years, and I can’t help thinking he’s dead.”

“Perhaps we can send out notices—”

“No,” Dotty said too loudly before catching herself. She hunched her shoulders and glanced around as if expecting someone to spring out of one of the stalls. “If he’s still alive after all this time, then he’s made a new life for himself, and I can’t bring my troubles upon him.”

Susanna knew she was prying, but she had to learn more. “Can you return to Mr. Lovelace?”

The girl shuddered. “I’d rather die first.”

“Then he harmed you?”

For a long moment, Dotty was mute, as though she couldn’t speak of the horrors she’d lived through. Finally she whispered so softly Susanna had to still her breath to hear her. “I suppose I was yet a child when he first purchased me. But now . . .”

Susanna rapidly calculated the passing of time. If Dotty had been a young girl of twelve or thirteen years when she’d been indentured, then over the past five years she had matured into a becoming young woman. No doubt her loveliness had attracted the attention of plenty of men, including her master.

“I heard rumors of the things he did with the other female servants,” Dotty said, “but I never expected him to . . .”

A sick ache formed in the pit of Susanna’s stomach.

“I ran away once before,” she continued. “But he found me, whipped me, and locked me up for a while . . . and as punishment he let his friends have their way with me.”

Susanna gulped down the revulsion Dotty’s words elicited. “So you ran away again the first chance you had?”

“Aye.” The word was laced with all the pain and sorrow her young life had seen. “This time I knew I had to get out of Boston, as far away as I could.”

“Do you think Mr. Lovelace is still searching for you?”

“He hired a man to hunt for me. I made it as far as Braintree when the man captured me.” Dotty’s voice shook. “Then he took my shoes and set me free.”

“Whatever for?”

“For the sport of it. Apparently he likes the hunt.”

“That’s why you were without your shoes?”

“Aye.”

“And is this man still searching for you?”

“I don’t know.”

Susanna couldn’t imagine anything more perverted. Surely with the information Dotty had shared, Ben would have enough to make a case against Mr. Lovelace, enough to set Dotty free from her contract of indenture. She’d compose another letter to Ben this very day and find a way to have it delivered to him promptly.

Surely God would expect her to make this small effort for Dotty. Yes, God commanded His people to obey their rulers, but He also commanded them to show compassion to those in need.

The barn door squeaked, and the flickering light of a candle fell upon them.

Dotty scrambled back into the shadows of the haymow.

Susanna’s breath caught in her throat. Had someone discovered them?

Tom’s face appeared in the doorway, illuminated by the candlelight. “Miss Susie?”

Susanna released her breath and gave the slave a wobbly smile. She motioned him in and put a finger to her lips, signaling his silence.

But even as she turned to introduce him to Dotty, she knew the young woman was already gone, that she’d disappeared into the early morning through the side barn door that was unlocked.

“Your mama’s not gonna like this at all,” Tom said after Susanna had quickly explained the situation to him.

“I don’t want Mother to know. I don’t want anyone else to suspect anything,” Susanna whispered. The fewer people who knew, the safer Dotty would be—at least until Ben could find a way to help her.

Tom only shook his head. The uncertainty in his brown eyes brought Susanna’s racing thoughts to a halt.

“I don’t like sneaking around,” Tom said. “I figure if we have to sneak around, then something’s not right about it.”

“Then let me do the sneaking.”

“Oh, Miss Susie. This is no good. You’re only gonna get yourself in trouble.”

“Not if we’re quiet about it.” But she knew there were no guarantees, that harboring a runaway was dangerous business for all those she involved. “I beg you not to tell Mother. And I beg you to keep this our secret.”

In the flicker of the candlelight, the doubt etched upon his face cast a shadow over her plans. Slowly he nodded his head. “I don’t like this, but I won’t breathe a word, Miss Susie. So
long as you promise me you’ll be praying hard about this and doing what the good Lord wants.”

“I’ll pray.” She would pray that somehow, someway, Providence would make clear to her what she should do before she brought peril upon herself and everyone she loved.

“I think I’m going to ask Mary Smith to marry me.” Cranch closed the door of his father’s Boston counting house on King Street.

Ben stopped short on the cobbled street. The heavy clatter of a passing coach drowned out Cranch’s next sentence, which Ben guessed was something about riding out to Weymouth again at the week’s end to propose.

“What do you think, old friend?” Cranch stepped next to him, straightening his cherry-red coat and then his lacy collar. “Do you think she’ll be able to resist me?”

“She won’t be able to resist you—not if you ride out there looking like a big shiny cherry with cream on the top.”

Cranch grinned. “You’re just jealous.”

The length of King Street bustled with merchants as well as the sailors, porters, and riggers who worked on Long Wharf. The wharf ran for half a mile from King Street to the sea. The whistle of a distant boatswain and the tap of a shipwright’s hammer fueled Ben’s blood, reminding him of his mission.

Yes, he was in Boston to take on another case, this time from one of the wealthy merchants who’d heard of his oratory skill. But he was also there to pass along messages from the Caucus Club to the secret group that met in Boston.

“Admit it.” Cranch socked Ben in the arm. “You’re jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous of you, you big cherry?” Ben
started up the street in the direction of Town Hall, an imposing brick building that stood at the head of King Street.

Surprisingly, in spite of Cranch’s wealth and prestige, Ben had never experienced even a twinge of envy toward his friend. He supposed Cranch’s carefree spirit and kindness made him the type of man anyone could like. There wasn’t a hint of the petty superiority so many of Ben’s companions exhibited.

“You’re jealous because I’m going to taste sweet wedded bliss before you.” Cranch strode alongside him, his shoes clapping against the cobbles as loudly as the horses passing by.

They passed Cranch’s father’s warehouse and then a coffee shop, the strong scent of the coffee overpowering the usual seaside odor of pickled herring.