Unless...
Kitty stilled. An impression sparked in her mind and she pushed away from the wall.
Thank you, Lord!
She unfolded the message and committed it to memory before ripping off a corner and shoving the sour tasting paper into her mouth. With a shudder she swallowed it down and quickly severed the remaining message into pieces. Her muscles trembled and she clutched the fragments to keep from dropping them. A mumble of voices grew louder and she stuffed in three pieces more, grinding the parchment between her teeth and praying enough moisture remained in her mouth to carry them down her throat.
Again she swallowed, and again she filled her mouth with more fragments. Pressing her back against the wall to anchor her quivering body, she grimaced as the last bite struggled down her dry throat.
The mumbled sounds cleared into distinguishable voices as the speakers neared the shack.
Nay!
Kitty lurched forward and shoved the last pieces in her mouth, chewed and swallowed just as the door smacked open.
A smile hinted at her lips.
They would never find it now.
***
Pulling back the reins, Nathaniel squinted against the heavy drops. A frown pulled against his mouth. He squinted to see through the spattering of trees, almost wishing he’d accepted Thomas’s plea to join him. But the risk Kitty had taken was because of him. And the remedy, he vowed, would be as well.
Keeping a tight grip on the leather in his hands, he spoke quietly to Astor while holding his vision on the faint lights glowing in the forest ahead. What could that—
The rhythmic drumming of approaching hooves rumbled like the rolling thunder. Coercing his blood to move at a normal rhythm, he urged his horse toward the edge of a small embankment on the other side of the road, finding cover moments before the riders appeared. Nathaniel’s neck corded and his shoulders cramped as three riders came into view, moonlight glinting off their swords and brass buttons.
A string of curses coiled on his tongue. Soldiers.
“Donaldson won’t be happy we’re late.” One of the soldiers pulled his horse off the road and continued toward the lights.
Donaldson? Nathaniel’s lungs heaved.
“’Tis Stockton we must answer to,” another one replied.
The last soldier spoke. “I would know if they still have that woman they captured on the road to Plymouth.”
Alarm shoved up Nathaniel’s spine. They have her! This nightmare he had not considered, though he should have, knowing what the British had done to the courier he’d bandaged only hours ago.
Nathaniel jumped to the ground never moving his gaze from the far-away camp. Surely God had led him here. He had to trust that the Lord had opened this path and that He would guide him to Kitty.
Astor side-stepped as if he sensed the impending danger. Nathaniel stroked the animal’s neck before tying the reins around a tree. “Don’t worry. I shall return for you.”
He glanced up and down the road before darting to the woods on the opposite side. Like heavenly watchmen, the noble forest seemed to shield him from detection. Nathaniel didn’t stop running. Trails of cold rain trickled down his neck as he neared the camp. The scent of smoke and the sound of men’s voices grew stronger with every step. The closer he got to danger, the more his blood heated.
Around the perimeter, only feet from the camp, the conversation of a group of soldiers stung Nathaniel’s ears and he skidded to a halt.
A soldier sidestepped back and forth as he talked. “Stockton is convinced she has it in her skirts.”
“Had you not heard?” Another approached and the men turned to him. “They sent Ward’s old lady to search her. She found the note easy as you please.”
“Ha! I should have been the one to check her,” another man said with a sickening laugh, “I would have found several other useful things, I’m sure.”
The men erupted with hideous guffaws and Nathaniel clenched the tree beside him. If those men had done anything to Kitty he would destroy them with his bare hands.
Pushing away his violent thoughts, Nathaniel gritted his teeth and continued rounding the outer edge of the camp. As he moved over the sopping ground, he sent endless prayers to heaven. Lead me, Lord. Help me carry her to safety.
As he circled, Nathaniel measured the strength of the camp. Eight tents. Seven small and one large, with a shack on the opposite end. As he counted, the door to the shack opened and Donaldson appeared. Nathaniel halted and stopped breathing as the commotion in the camp quieted.