Read Online Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution by Suzanne Adair - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Adair
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as though
at any second he would dissolve into lamentation, but he maintained
control. "I shall find who
murdered him and avenge his death."
Did he speak of
avenging Jonah or Will? "Stay
clear of the soldiers," she whispered.
He coughed with
derision before grasping her hand and walking with her a few feet from the
horses. "Three enemies of the
Crown are dead," he said, low. "Don't expect the redcoats to trouble themselves solving the
murders. As far as they're concerned,
justice has been served." Determination fired his expression. "If we want answers, we shall have to find them ourselves. But you've been arrested."
"House
arrest. A cipher supposedly intended
for my father fell into Major Hunt's hands. In exchange for decoding it, I exonerate myself from involvement with
the rebels."
"Ah." He glanced over her shoulder. "Mr. Stoddard draws near. You and I must speak again."
"I'm
allowed no privacy with my visitors."
He wrapped an
arm about her shoulder and raised his voice for Stoddard to hear. "Take heart. You aren't as isolated as you believe." After releasing her, he retrieved his rifle
and reins and hoisted himself into the saddle. With a nudge, he sent the horse eastward, back to town and the Hale
smithy.
Stoddard
brought her the horse she'd ridden. In
the seconds that she watched the diminishing figure of the blacksmith on horseback,
she concurred with Mathias. The
redcoats wouldn't exert special effort to solve the murders. That meant it was the responsibility of the
St. Jameses and the Hales to bring the killers of their loved ones to
justice. Plagued by doubts of her father's
love in his final months, she resolved that moment to find his murderer and
show herself a worthy daughter.
Chapter Six
RANKLED OVER
BEING implicated for the broadsides, stunned by her father's death, Sophie
clung to composure while receiving condolences in her dining room. Who killed Will St. James? The redcoats had motive to arrest and
imprison him, but burning him at the stake just wasn't their style. Indeed, the manner of his murder, hallmark
of someone hell-bent on revenge, made his rebel cohorts, the mysterious El
Serpiente, and the Indians suspects. So, suspects she had aplenty, but as for their motives —?
Private Barrows
entered the dining room with a sour look. "A savage is outside. Says
his name is something like As-say-see-cora." One shoulder jerked with dismissal. "Shall I get rid of him for you?"
She sat
forward. "Assayceeta
Corackall?" Runs With Horses, son
of Madeleine le Coeuvre's adoptive sister, Laughing Eyes — what brought him to
Alton? He seldom ventured into town.
"That's
the fellow. You want to see him?"
"Please."
Barrows looked
surprised. "But everyone thinks
the savages killed those men."
Foreboding
twined with her grief. She stood. "Please."
In contrast to
the thud of Barrows' boots, Runs With Horses glided into the kitchen, his
moccasins a whisper on the wood floor, his earrings and nose ring silent. Lines of dotted, charcoal-colored tattoos
ornamented his bronze, shaven head and encircled his topknot of blue-black
hair. A bandoleer of tiny charcoal
tattoos extended from left shoulder to right hip, continuing over the portion
of his right buttock visible outside his breechcloth and coiling down his right
leg like a rattlesnake. He halted about
two feet from her and bowed, the sigh of arrows brushing together in his quiver
and a rancid whiff of bear grease the non-visual harbingers of his
arrival. "Nagchoguh
Hogdee." Paper Woman.
The Creek slit
enemies' throats, and flayed them alive, and — heaven forbid — burned them at
the stake, but until she had a motive, she'd grant them the courtesy she'd
always given them. "You honor my
house with your visit, Assayceeta Corackall."
"As you
have honored the house of my mother." Behind him, Barrows leaned against the doorjamb
at any second he would dissolve into lamentation, but he maintained
control. "I shall find who
murdered him and avenge his death."
Did he speak of
avenging Jonah or Will? "Stay
clear of the soldiers," she whispered.
He coughed with
derision before grasping her hand and walking with her a few feet from the
horses. "Three enemies of the
Crown are dead," he said, low. "Don't expect the redcoats to trouble themselves solving the
murders. As far as they're concerned,
justice has been served." Determination fired his expression. "If we want answers, we shall have to find them ourselves. But you've been arrested."
"House
arrest. A cipher supposedly intended
for my father fell into Major Hunt's hands. In exchange for decoding it, I exonerate myself from involvement with
the rebels."
"Ah." He glanced over her shoulder. "Mr. Stoddard draws near. You and I must speak again."
"I'm
allowed no privacy with my visitors."
He wrapped an
arm about her shoulder and raised his voice for Stoddard to hear. "Take heart. You aren't as isolated as you believe." After releasing her, he retrieved his rifle
and reins and hoisted himself into the saddle. With a nudge, he sent the horse eastward, back to town and the Hale
smithy.
Stoddard
brought her the horse she'd ridden. In
the seconds that she watched the diminishing figure of the blacksmith on horseback,
she concurred with Mathias. The
redcoats wouldn't exert special effort to solve the murders. That meant it was the responsibility of the
St. Jameses and the Hales to bring the killers of their loved ones to
justice. Plagued by doubts of her father's
love in his final months, she resolved that moment to find his murderer and
show herself a worthy daughter.
Chapter Six
RANKLED OVER
BEING implicated for the broadsides, stunned by her father's death, Sophie
clung to composure while receiving condolences in her dining room. Who killed Will St. James? The redcoats had motive to arrest and
imprison him, but burning him at the stake just wasn't their style. Indeed, the manner of his murder, hallmark
of someone hell-bent on revenge, made his rebel cohorts, the mysterious El
Serpiente, and the Indians suspects. So, suspects she had aplenty, but as for their motives —?
Private Barrows
entered the dining room with a sour look. "A savage is outside. Says
his name is something like As-say-see-cora." One shoulder jerked with dismissal. "Shall I get rid of him for you?"
She sat
forward. "Assayceeta
Corackall?" Runs With Horses, son
of Madeleine le Coeuvre's adoptive sister, Laughing Eyes — what brought him to
Alton? He seldom ventured into town.
"That's
the fellow. You want to see him?"
"Please."
Barrows looked
surprised. "But everyone thinks
the savages killed those men."
Foreboding
twined with her grief. She stood. "Please."
In contrast to
the thud of Barrows' boots, Runs With Horses glided into the kitchen, his
moccasins a whisper on the wood floor, his earrings and nose ring silent. Lines of dotted, charcoal-colored tattoos
ornamented his bronze, shaven head and encircled his topknot of blue-black
hair. A bandoleer of tiny charcoal
tattoos extended from left shoulder to right hip, continuing over the portion
of his right buttock visible outside his breechcloth and coiling down his right
leg like a rattlesnake. He halted about
two feet from her and bowed, the sigh of arrows brushing together in his quiver
and a rancid whiff of bear grease the non-visual harbingers of his
arrival. "Nagchoguh
Hogdee." Paper Woman.
The Creek slit
enemies' throats, and flayed them alive, and — heaven forbid — burned them at
the stake, but until she had a motive, she'd grant them the courtesy she'd
always given them. "You honor my
house with your visit, Assayceeta Corackall."
"As you
have honored the house of my mother." Behind him, Barrows leaned against the doorjamb
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