Spirit of the Revolution (18 page)

“We got it covered,” Sam said. “Just see to our lady and we’ll take care of the rest.”

“What are they going to do with him?” asked Jolena as he escorted her toward the house. “They aren’t going to hurt him, are they?”

Mathias chuckled. “Don’t worry. He’ll live to tell the tale.”

“Wait just a minute, Mathias. I still have to get my things,” she reminded him.

Despite the removal of the threat, he refused to leave her side. He placed one hand around her waist, and took possession of the boxes and portfolio with the other. She retrieved her violin and then closed the lid of her trunk. Then as she turned around, her gaze meandered toward the oak tree.

“Let’s wait for the lads inside the library, shall we?” he said once he noted the direction of her gaze. Despite his fervent desire to get her inside, she halted their progress just shy of the door. Concern filled her eyes once their gazes locked and held. She raised a hand and rested it lightly against his chest. For her sake, he fought to quell his rage.

She shook her head and with a tsk, dismissed the feeble attempt. “I’m all right, Mathias. He didn’t get the chance to hurt me.”

“Yes, but he should never have gotten that close,” he countered.

Her gaze wandered over to oak tree once again. A look of confusion settled into her features when she found it vacated. “Where did he—”

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” he cut in.

“I suppose it best not to ask, anyway.” She sighed as they resumed their path. “So tell me, just how do you do that?”

“I’m sorry, do what?” he asked.

“How can you pick up the weight of a grown man and toss it as if it weighed no more than a loaf of bread?” she asked, pointing from her car to the tree. “For that matter, how do you accomplish
all
of the things you manage to accomplish? I just don’t understand how that works.”

“After our mortal demise, we learned to combine the force of our will along with the ever-present energy that surrounds us to accomplish those things we choose to achieve. It’s along the same principal as using the force of thunder and lightning to create a battle exercise,” he replied as he opened the door for her. Then indicating the stairway, he continued, “Shall we?”

A short while later, his men returned from their assigned duty and gathered in the library. The enlarged digital copy of Jacob Weidmann’s letter sat atop the desk. He read the message aloud twice and then gazed into each of the confused faces.

“Right now, I have only one clue to offer. There’s no doubt in my mind but the man captured and executed by the British is my cousin, Thomas McGregor. I’m sure you’ll all agree with that conclusion,” Mathias stated, pointing at the scrawled “thsmcgre
”
written by Jacob.

“However, I’ve no idea as to the reason for it. No one either in or outside the family, ever indicated that Thomas involved himself with the war in any manner.” He shrugged. “Any ideas?”

“Now that we’re taking the time to look at the thing, I think the ‘erc’s’ are nothing more than a hurried abbreviation for the English Redcoats,” said Sam. “If I’m right, then it means any unit or secret organization belonging to the English army might take responsibility for his death. That’ll make it even more difficult to discover the reason behind his execution.”

“I think you’re right, Sam.” Mathias nodded as he studied Jacob’s scrawl. “But I wonder what ‘tinker’s toy’ is in reference to? Does anyone have any ideas? If we could figure that part out, then perhaps we could figure out the rest of it.”

“I don’t know. But the thing seemed important enough to change its location in the middle of a scheduled convoy,” William said.

“What did Thomas do for a living?” asked Jo. “I mean, he didn’t do anything even remotely related to the tinker trade, did he?”

Mathias shook his head. “No. Everyone noted Thomas for his brilliance and not for mundane labor. He often referred to himself as a gentleman farmer. Someone who, as a vast landowner, did nothing more than oversee the business of his lands. I know he traveled quite a bit in conjunction with those holdings. If I’m not mistaken, he inherited some of the ancestral lands in Scotland, the business of which required his presence there on occasion. As far as I could tell, he didn’t pay any mind to the war.”

“Though possibly, naught but a clever ruse,” Sam said. “As you know, many of our staunchest allies pretended neutrality. And as far as tinkers go, Jolena, they were a rare lot in these parts and I don’t remember seeing any of them around on a regular basis since before the war began. So, I don’t think the term ‘tinker’s toy’ had anything to do with the trade.”

“Well then, if Thomas possessed a great deal of wealth, could my grandfather have referred to part of that wealth?” she asked. “Something tangible, such as gold or silver, and he referred to that treasure in code as tinker’s toy?”

“Very possible,” Mathias said. “However, if that’s the case, then I believe he would’ve needed to sell off some of his lands, either here or in Scotland, to attain something substantial to barter with. Then he would’ve had to donate whatever he accumulated to the patriot cause.”

They discussed the letter long into the night. At the end of the discussion, the true meaning of the note evaded them.

“I have one more idea before we call it a night,” Jolena said. “Let’s check the Internet and see if there’s any mention of a Thomas McGregor from this part of Pennsylvania, connected in any way with the Revolutionary War. Perhaps there’s something in recorded history that’ll provide the link between your cousin and George Washington.”

“Let’s give it a try,” he said as he circled the desk to stand behind her.

She turned to the keyboard, typed a few key words into the search engine, and hit enter. “Well, your cousin’s name, alongside the time period and area, points us to about fifty Web sites. Let me see if any of them look promising,” she murmured as she sorted through them one link at a time.

At the end of her search, she leaned back against her chair. “I’ve only managed to come up with one possibility. There’s some kind of volume penned by a T. McGregor, at this museum here,” she said pointing to the title on the monitor. “The manuscript is from the time period. However, it isn’t digitized yet. That means we’ll need to make a trip out there and look at it in person
if
they’ll let us see it. Keep in mind there’s a good chance the volume has nothing to do with Thomas or what we’re looking for and in the end will yield nothing but wasted time.”

“The time isn’t wasted, Jolena,” Mathias said. “The trip will either prove productive or we can eliminate the book from our list of possibilities. That in itself takes us closer to what we seek.”

“All right then, we’ll go on my next day off. While we’re on this little outing, I think we should also search the land records, and see if Thomas sold anything prior to his death.” She tapped her notebook with her pen. “I’m sure we can at least answer that question without difficulty.”

“Thomas also owned land in Virginia,” Mathias said. “If we’re going to research the sale of his property, we’ll have to include that area as well as his property in Scotland, if you know a way to do that.”

****

Much later that night, as Jolena slept soundly, Mathias entered her bedroom. After her earlier assault and fearing more attempts by the man named Paul, he determined to stand guard over her each night as she slept, whether she willed it or not.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and as he looked down on her lovely face, he recalled the first day she entered his life. The moment she got out of her car and entered his property, she induced feelings difficult to comprehend. Yet, at that time, he never once considered those feelings would lead him to fall in love with her. But fall in love he had. Deeply—and beyond all recall. Despite that love, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever tell her that—at least not during her waking hours. She deserved far more than what he, as naught but spirit, could offer.

“Fate hasn’t been kind to us, has it, lass?”
Mathias whispered to her sleeping form. “Would that you had been born in my century, or I in yours.” He gently brushed her hair away from her face. Then, as he caressed the bruises now visible on her neck, he vowed that he would never allow anyone to hurt her again.

What effect would the coming days, months, and years have on their relationship? Would each day bring them closer together? Or would something or someone sever the established bonds and drive them apart. Despite the possible pain of such an occurrence, he renewed his resolve to stay the course, wherever it might lead. He didn’t possess the strength to do otherwise.

“Come what may, Jolena Leigh Michaelsson, you will always have my heart.”
He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, to seal the promise.

Chapter 14

“Hey Kay-Kay, it’s just me.” Jo leaned forward in her office chair and placed her elbows on the desk. She glanced up at Mathias. He nodded his encouragement.

“Hey yourself, Jo, what’s up? Are you calling to tell me just how wonderful I am again?” she asked.

Jo envisioned the cocky smile Carolyn wore on her face at this moment and the image made her laugh. “Absolutely! That’s the first and foremost thing on my list of things to do today.” She picked up her astrolabe and toyed with the dials. “Truly, Carolyn, I can’t thank you enough for all your hard work. Everything turned out beautifully. But, I also have to tell you something else. The news isn’t so good, and that’s why I’m calling you at such an early hour.”

“Oh, no. Did something happen to one of the documents?”

“No, the documents are all fine and safely tucked away for now. I need to tell you, rather, warn you, that someone else knows about them. Last night this person followed me home, with the intention of stealing them.” Jo struggled for the best way to explain all this without giving away her boys.

“Are you serious? Tell me what happened.”

“Well, after I arrived home, I got out of my car and walked back to my trunk to get my things. Then, from out of nowhere, this man appeared behind me. He grabbed hold of my waist with one arm, put his other arm around my neck, and demanded the boxes. Luckily, some men who live in my community happened to witness the event and hastened to my rescue.”

“Well, I’m so grateful for their assistance and you can tell them I said so. What did the man look like, Jo? I’m asking because I remember seeing this guy in the restaurant sitting across from us. He looked us over pretty good. A little too good if you want my opinion, and I wonder if he eavesdropped on our discussion. Do you know who I’m talking about?” she asked. “The tall, dark, and not-so-very-handsome guy?”

“Yes, I remember him. But, I don’t think it’s the same man. Although I didn’t have the chance to see my attacker myself, the description my valiant knight gave didn’t fit the one in the restaurant. According to his description, the man stood about five nine, weighed close to one-seventy, had dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and wore silver-framed glasses. His attire consisted of a pair of tan slacks with a dark green polo shirt,” Jo said.

“Oh, no. You’ve got to be kidding me. Jo, that sounds just like Paul Sanders. He stopped by my office yesterday while I—” Carolyn’s voice trailed off.

“Kay?”

“Jo, Paul fancies himself an expert on George Washington. This guy is always looking for public attention and recognition. And I left him alone in the lab for a few minutes while I put together some things for Ray. When I returned to the lab, he causally asked me about all the stuff I had strung out all over my tables.” Carolyn paused and then the tone of her voice hardened as she said, “I know he read the letter, I just know it. And Jo, he knows what it is. Please tell me you had the police arrest him.”

She glanced at Mathias. “No, I’m afraid not. The man just suddenly disappeared—as if someone spirited him away from my presence. And of course, because I have no way of identifying him myself, I didn’t even bother with a police report. After all, when they don’t have something to go on from the victim—”

“I know, I know—” Carolyn moaned. “Well, be on your guard, Jo. I’m certain our man is Paul Sanders. Yet, without some kind of proof, there isn’t a whole lot we can do about it now. Nevertheless, I’m going to delete your file from my computer right this minute—wait just a second—there. I deleted it from the recycle bin as well. Everything is gone as we speak. The CD copy from my archives is going inside my purse, and I’ll take it to the bank vault as soon as I go to lunch. I already gave you all the prints I made, so trust me, he won’t find anything regarding your documents, should he decide to come looking for them here. Perhaps you ought to make sure he doesn’t find anything at your house, either.”

“I’m not so worried about that, as I’m of you,” Jo replied. “He won’t hurt you in an attempt to get the file or the copies, will he? I would never forgive myself if something happened to you or your lab because of me.”

“No, he wouldn’t do that. We’re colleagues, Jo. Right now, his reputation is all he has and he guards it well. I don’t think he would risk that or his career by trying to harm me, especially when I could identify him. So please don’t worry about me, just take care of you,” she said.

Jo found it difficult not to worry some. But as the days passed, she worried less and less about the threat of Paul Sanders and gave more time and energy to solving the puzzle of her grandfather’s letter. More often than not, she even dreamed of it at night. Remnants of one such dream teased her memory this very morning as sleep slowly ebbed and consciousness took its place. Perhaps her optimism for their planned outing simply manifested itself in the dream.

After a luxurious stretch from the comfort of her bed, she turned toward her window and found evidence of daylight peeking through the curtains. At the same time, an unexpected knock sounded on her bedroom door. “Yes?”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Mathias called out. “We’re wasting precious daylight.”