The Work and the Glory (29 page)

Twice she nearly got on her horse and simply rode away. She found the night foreboding and the promise of what was yet to come less and less attractive. Her aunt’s house was just half a mile up the road, and the thoughts of it beckoned to her like the glow of a warm fire on a winter’s night. But leaving now meant she would have to work out another time to see Joshua and confront him. Going through this emotional trauma again was more than she could bear. So she waited, getting more exasperated with each passing minute.

Suddenly she froze, peering toward the house. Joshua was coming, but he was not alone. There were four or five others with him. She stepped back quickly, letting the deep shadows of the overhanging tree embrace her.

“Lydia!” It was an urgent whisper.

She stepped out, her heart dropping. With the heavy overcast it was very dark away from the house, but she didn’t need much light to recognize the figure of Will Murdock. Her anger flared. No wonder Joshua had avoided mentioning who was in on this night’s activity! But almost instantly the anger gave way to fear as she recognized the others with Will. Mark, David, Mark’s drab little sister, and another girl Lydia didn’t know. There was not a one of them who was renowned for discretion. Had they known Joshua was bringing her? Yes, almost certainly. Had they told Willard Chase she was out here waiting for them? A new wave of coldness swept over her as a picture of her father flashed through her mind.

She spun around to face Joshua, as angry as she could ever remember being at anyone. In the darkness he took no note of it. “We were right, Lydia. Joseph’s got the plates.”

Will, likewise oblivious to her mood, jumped in excitedly. “The Smiths somehow got word of the conjurer being here. This afternoon Emma rushed over to Macedon to fetch Joe home. He got home ‘bout an hour ago. He’s getting ready to go out and find the plates.”

Lydia turned, piqued in spite of her anger. “Where are they?”

David Murdock broke in gleefully. “The conjurer says Joseph has them hidden in the forest someplace.”

“Oh, good,” she cried, “in the forest someplace.”

Mark’s sister seemed stung by her sarcasm. “Joe’s gonna get them tonight and bring them home. We’re gonna follow him.”

Lydia turned in disgust, but spun back around as her mind suddenly registered what she had just seen. Will Murdock had a rifle in his hand. She turned. Mark had a two-foot length of oak limb and was tapping it menacingly against his leg. Jonathan had a pistol stuck in his belt, and one hand caressed the butt lovingly. She whirled to face Joshua. “What is this?” She jerked her hand, pointing at Will’s rifle. “What are you going to do?”

Joshua reached out and took her hand. She jerked it away. “You have guns?”

Will stuck his face next to hers, his eyes wide and yellow, like those of a lynx when caught in the lantern light. “By morning we’ll have the gold and ol’ Joe Smith will have a few lumps on his head.” He threw back his head and howled. Lydia averted her face, the whiskey on his breath nearly making her gag.

Joshua stepped between them. “No one’s gonna get hurt, Lydia. We’re just makin’ sure Joe doesn’t get away.”

She stared at him, not believing he couldn’t see the ridiculous contradiction in his words. With sudden determination she spun on her heel and walked quickly to where she had tied her horse.

Joshua was beside her in a moment and grabbed her arm. “Lydia, what are you doing?”

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “This is insane, Joshua,” she hissed. “Somebody
is
going to get hurt and I want no part of it.”

“Come on, Lydia,” he urged, keeping his voice low, so the others wouldn’t hear. “Will just talks big.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the Murdocks were with you?”

He looked down, not meeting her eyes. “There are others too.”

“You knew I wouldn’t come if you told me, didn’t you?”

From behind them, Will called in a contemptuous voice. “What’s the matter, Joshua? Your woman losing her nerve?”

Joshua half whirled, his mouth tight. “That’s enough, Will.” He turned back to her, his eyes pleading. “Lydia, just for an hour. Then if nothing happens, I’ll take you to your aunt’s house.”

She stuck a foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. “I’m going now, Joshua.”

Behind them the girl named Sarah made some comment, and they all laughed.

“Are you coming?” Lydia asked quietly.

“Maybe you’d better go, Joshua,” Will jeered. “This is gonna be man’s work tonight.”

Joshua suddenly shook his head. “Lydia, all I’m asking for is one hour.”

She stared down at him. Finally, she shook her head. “No, Joshua, you’re asking for a lot more than that.” She reined the horse around sharply. “Good-bye.” She dug her heels into the horse’s flanks and it leaped away.

“Watch out for the hobgoblins, Lydia, they’ll—” But the wind whipped the rest of Will’s taunting call away across the open fields. Lydia did not turn back but spurred the horse harder, squinting her eyes against the wind and the hot tears which sprang to her eyes.

The Steed family were having a quiet evening at home. Nathan was lying on his parents’ bed, laboriously plowing through
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin,
which he had gotten from Palmyra’s tiny library. His father was patching a saddle strap, trimming the new piece of leather with a knife and then twisting the blade point round and round to make the holes for the buckle. His mother sat at the table quietly reading the Bible to Matthew and Becca. Melissa was at the mirror, brushing her hair until it crackled with static electricity.

Nathan stopped and looked up, cocking his head to listen. For a moment he thought he had heard something. Finally he shrugged. The wind moaned around the cabin like a wounded animal, rattling the door and the oiled paper at the main window. He started to drop his head again when he saw the dog. His head was up, ears cocked forward, eyes staring at the door. A low growl came from his throat.

“Pa,” Nathan said.

As his father looked up, Nathan gestured with his head. The dog came to its feet, growling more openly now, then trotted to the door and gave a low bark. Then Nathan heard it too. The clatter of horse’s hooves on the hard-packed dirt outside.

“Someone’s here,” Melissa said unnecessarily.

Benjamin stood and went to the door as all the family paused in what they were doing, curious as to who would be out on a night such as this.

“Mr. Steed?”

Nathan jerked up sharply. He couldn’t see past his father into the night, but there was no mistaking that voice.

“My name is Lydia McBride. Could I please speak with you and Nathan on an urgent matter?”

Chapter Thirteen

Joshua had had little time to worry about Lydia’s moodiness and her sudden flight. She had barely gone when Willard Chase came bolting out of the house. Joseph was getting ready to move. In an instant, the men had been organized into teams to cover all of the possible routes he might take. Chase had tried to send Joshua and the Murdocks to the north on Stafford Road in case he went that way. But Will brushed the suggestion aside angrily. The long hill owned by Pliney Sexton, which supposedly was the site where the plates were buried, was south on Canandaigua Road another two miles or so down from the Chase farm. There was no way Will Murdock was going to be cheated out of his chance to be at the center of the action. The others had agreed quickly, partly because time was too critical for debate, partly because they sensed that Will and his party were willing to take whatever action was necessary to get the plates from Smith.

They had moved quickly to the place where Armington Road came east from Stafford Road, the road the Smiths lived on, and joined Canandaigua Road. If Joseph was headed for the hill, this would be the route he would have to take. It was interesting, for all of Will’s bellowing and blowing, that it was Joshua who quickly took over the leadership of the group. He was the only sober one of the four of them—not counting the girls, who now huddled together quietly, trying to keep each other warm—and even Will seemed content to let him lead out.

For a half hour they squatted in the heavy undergrowth about fifteen or twenty yards off the road, getting colder and more frustrated with each minute. It was late enough in the month that the last of the waning moon was now gone, and the night would have been dark enough without the storm clouds deepening it even further. Joshua was still fuming over Lydia’s cavalier performance and Will’s vulgar comments about her, and now his nerves had frayed to a thread as he peered into the darkness trying to pick out anyone coming down the road.

“I say he ain’t comin’ this way,” David pouted. “We’re gonna miss him.”

Joshua whirled. “Will you shut up!” he hissed. “If he does come, he’ll hear you whining a mile away.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, big man,” David shot back, his voice rising. “Ain’t nobody made you—”

But Joshua had swung around and grabbed him by the shirt front and yanked him up to face him. “You want that club stuffed down your throat?” He shoved him back and the younger Murdock crashed down to the ground. Will was up in an instant, but in the face of Joshua’s height and fury, he finally turned to his brother. “Joshua’s right, David. We’ve got to be quiet.”

“They didn’t say Joseph had left,” Joshua whispered, fighting down the surge of emotion. “They said he was getting ready to leave. He could be another half hour. And we’re gonna sit right here and be quiet until we’re absolutely sure he ain’t coming this way.”

He glared down at David, daring him to disagree, but the boy was already cowed. Sarah pulled away from Hope and moved over to sit beside him, pushing her shoulder against his. Joshua turned back to his watch, squinting his eyes against the wind. He felt the first raindrop spatter against his face but ignored it.
Come on, Joseph! Don’t you be going any other way.

Five minutes later their wait paid off. At first, Joshua thought it was one of the trees beyond the road, writhing and twisting as the wind gusted, but then the shape materialized out of the darkness, tall and striding along purposefully. He signalled urgently with his hand, and they all crouched down even more tightly to the ground.

It was Joseph, all right. As he came to the junction, he stopped and looked around carefully, taking the most time to search the road in the direction he had just come, to see if he was being followed. Joshua held his breath, his eyes peeping through the branches which hid them. Finally, Joseph seemed satisfied, and strode off again, turning south on Canandaigua Road.

“All right,” Joshua whispered, urging them in close to him. “That’s him and he’s headed for the hill. Will, you and me are gonna follow him. Mark, you and David head down Armington Road and hide yourself where it joins Stafford.”

Mark rose up, a protest forming on his lips, but Will cuffed him back. “Joe’s got to come back this way. If we miss him, you’ve got to get him.”

Joshua turned to the girls. “You two hurry on back to the Chase house. Tell the others we’ve got him. Bring three men and stay with them here. Have the rest go south on Stafford Road in case he cuts across the fields. As dark as it is, we can’t take a chance on missing him.”

He didn’t wait to see if they obeyed. Joseph was moving fast, and in a moment they would lose him completely. Joshua was appalled at the noise they made as they hurried along, but he knew it was just his nerves sharpening his perceptions. The wind was blowing straight out of the south and taking the sound away from Joseph. In the dim light, they could see him stop every now and then and search the night around him. But each time, they dropped down flat, and in a moment Joseph would continue, with no signs of having seen them. They followed him that way for almost ten minutes.

“Where’d he go? Where’d he go?” Will Murdock hissed the words into Joshua’s ear and clutched at his arm.

Joshua shook his head in sharp warning, peering into the night, trying to distinguish the blackness of Joseph’s shape from the surrounding darkness. After a moment he nodded, holding a finger up to his lips. He saw a shadow momentarily cross the path of a farmhouse’s lighted window. He was still there ahead of them, striding along rapidly. There was no question; he was heading for the hill. Joshua felt his pulse quicken at the thoughts of the gold waiting there.

But suddenly, about a half mile north of the hill, Joseph stopped. Signalling frantically to Will, Joshua dropped to a crouch. It was hard to distinguish what Joseph was doing, but Joshua sensed that this time he was not checking his back trail. He seemed to be peering off to one side, as if looking for some kind of landmark. Then to Joshua’s surprise, he suddenly plunged off the road and disappeared.

For a moment he stared, then realization dawned. He jumped up. “Come on, Will. He’s left the road. We’re gonna lose him.”

When they reached the point where Joseph had stopped, Joshua stepped off the road, searching for some sign to aid them. Then in a moment he had it. In the rail fence there was what was called a wall stile, or more irreverently, the “fat man’s agony.” It was a very narrow opening between two posts, just wide enough for a man to slip through but too narrow for stock to pass. Normally a horizontal stick was slipped between the two posts about waist high to discourage the smaller calves or colts from trying to get through. That stick was out of its place and leaning against the fence.

“This is it!” Joshua cried softly. “He must have them hidden in the trees over there.”

“We got him!” Will chortled. “We got him.”

He started to push through the stile, but Joshua grabbed his shoulder. “No, Will. You stay here. In case we miss him.”

“Forget it, Steed,” Will snarled. “You just want them plates for yourself.”

Joshua felt his anger explode. He jerked Will around, almost making him drop the rifle. “Listen! Have you got hay for brains? It’s gonna be darker than the bottom of a well at midnight in those trees.” He pointed to the cross stick. “Look, he left the stick out. That means he’s planning to come back this way. We can’t take a chance of missing him. Now stay here. And no shootin’!”