Read Online Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution by Suzanne Adair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Adair
Ads: Link
repartee while she returned articles of
clothing one by one, starting with his left moccasin.
When he'd bent
to help her disentangle her petticoat from brambles, across the ropy muscles
and Creek tattoos on his left shoulder she'd seen an outrage: faded scars,
legacy of his stepfather's wrath. Why
did Jacob Hale beat him? Had Mathias
let the fire in the forge go out or been slow with the bellows? Not likely. Jacob had never taken to his stepson, no flesh of his own. But still, that was no reason for Jacob to
beat him.
Didn't his
brothers know their father beat him?
Mathias had
regarded her then, expression composed, precursor to his solace over her
twins. Of course his brothers
knew. How could they not know? Sophie, do me a favor and don't say
anything about it , he'd said. In
fact, just forget about it .
Sophie returned
to Sunday, June 4, 1780 in the dusk. How peculiar that sitting in her father's bedroom should call to mind
Mathias's depth. Yet something told her
it wasn't coincidence.
She pulled the
wedding band from her pocket and scrubbed scorch marks off with her
fingernail. Tears pressured her throat,
but when she waited for relief, the flood didn't come. Instead, a blaze in her insides burned the
tears away. She didn't want to
weep. With her bare hands, she wanted
to strangle every redcoat, rebel, and Spaniard she could find. Will couldn't be forever gone. She expected him to stomp in through the
back door at any moment calling for his supper. Exhaling despair and bewilderment, she closed her eyes, and
another memory trickled into her head: Will with six-year-old Betsy on his
knee.
***
"Grandpapa,
what's your favorite animal?"
"A
horse. He's smarter than most men I
know, and he'll tell you who's the master."
"What's
your favorite color?"
"Green. It's the color of the deep, untamed
wilderness."
"And
your favorite number?"
"Three,
for my three children and three grandchildren."
***
Anxious, Sophie
rose, pocketed the wedding band, and brushed her fingertip over one of three painted
wooden soldiers ornamenting a bookshelf. Three clay pots of different sizes each contained tobacco for Will's
pipe. On his desk she found quills for
his inkpot and three seals. A shudder
wove up her back and stirred her imagination. Three .
Back in her
room, the door closed, a lantern lit, she opened Confessions to page
seventeen and wrote the third letter of the fourth word. Next to it she wrote the third letter of the
sixteenth word on page twenty-five, and from page forty-nine, pulled the third
letter of the eleventh word. By the
time she'd ferreted out twelve third letters from the book, she'd cracked the
cipher. Those letters spelled "Don
Alejandro."
Night settled
over Alton while she dipped her quill in ink and extracted the message one letter
at a time. Then she sat back and
whispered, "Gods." don
alejandro de galvez awaits you midnight june seventeenth near old fort beware
the serpent
She knew who
"the serpent" was. Had Will
been supposed to meet a Spanish lord at midnight on June seventeenth but been
killed by the serpent? "Don
Alejandro" might know something — if she could talk with him.
Many forts in
North America could be reached by a man on horseback within two weeks of
leaving Alton. Where was the "old
fort?" She correlated the
page-word pairs with the letters to make sure she hadn't missed any, but she'd
used them all. Edward wouldn't have
kept any of the message from her. Perhaps Will had known his destination in advance. Or perhaps the clue to his destination was
conveyed in another manner.
She rolled her
head around to work kinks from her neck, picked up the book, and examined
scratches on the front and back covers. None of it looked like secret code. The soldiers had slit the covers, hoping for clues. She examined the spine, still amazed that
her father would tolerate material from a
clothing one by one, starting with his left moccasin.
When he'd bent
to help her disentangle her petticoat from brambles, across the ropy muscles
and Creek tattoos on his left shoulder she'd seen an outrage: faded scars,
legacy of his stepfather's wrath. Why
did Jacob Hale beat him? Had Mathias
let the fire in the forge go out or been slow with the bellows? Not likely. Jacob had never taken to his stepson, no flesh of his own. But still, that was no reason for Jacob to
beat him.
Didn't his
brothers know their father beat him?
Mathias had
regarded her then, expression composed, precursor to his solace over her
twins. Of course his brothers
knew. How could they not know? Sophie, do me a favor and don't say
anything about it , he'd said. In
fact, just forget about it .
Sophie returned
to Sunday, June 4, 1780 in the dusk. How peculiar that sitting in her father's bedroom should call to mind
Mathias's depth. Yet something told her
it wasn't coincidence.
She pulled the
wedding band from her pocket and scrubbed scorch marks off with her
fingernail. Tears pressured her throat,
but when she waited for relief, the flood didn't come. Instead, a blaze in her insides burned the
tears away. She didn't want to
weep. With her bare hands, she wanted
to strangle every redcoat, rebel, and Spaniard she could find. Will couldn't be forever gone. She expected him to stomp in through the
back door at any moment calling for his supper. Exhaling despair and bewilderment, she closed her eyes, and
another memory trickled into her head: Will with six-year-old Betsy on his
knee.
***
"Grandpapa,
what's your favorite animal?"
"A
horse. He's smarter than most men I
know, and he'll tell you who's the master."
"What's
your favorite color?"
"Green. It's the color of the deep, untamed
wilderness."
"And
your favorite number?"
"Three,
for my three children and three grandchildren."
***
Anxious, Sophie
rose, pocketed the wedding band, and brushed her fingertip over one of three painted
wooden soldiers ornamenting a bookshelf. Three clay pots of different sizes each contained tobacco for Will's
pipe. On his desk she found quills for
his inkpot and three seals. A shudder
wove up her back and stirred her imagination. Three .
Back in her
room, the door closed, a lantern lit, she opened Confessions to page
seventeen and wrote the third letter of the fourth word. Next to it she wrote the third letter of the
sixteenth word on page twenty-five, and from page forty-nine, pulled the third
letter of the eleventh word. By the
time she'd ferreted out twelve third letters from the book, she'd cracked the
cipher. Those letters spelled "Don
Alejandro."
Night settled
over Alton while she dipped her quill in ink and extracted the message one letter
at a time. Then she sat back and
whispered, "Gods." don
alejandro de galvez awaits you midnight june seventeenth near old fort beware
the serpent
She knew who
"the serpent" was. Had Will
been supposed to meet a Spanish lord at midnight on June seventeenth but been
killed by the serpent? "Don
Alejandro" might know something — if she could talk with him.
Many forts in
North America could be reached by a man on horseback within two weeks of
leaving Alton. Where was the "old
fort?" She correlated the
page-word pairs with the letters to make sure she hadn't missed any, but she'd
used them all. Edward wouldn't have
kept any of the message from her. Perhaps Will had known his destination in advance. Or perhaps the clue to his destination was
conveyed in another manner.
She rolled her
head around to work kinks from her neck, picked up the book, and examined
scratches on the front and back covers. None of it looked like secret code. The soldiers had slit the covers, hoping for clues. She examined the spine, still amazed that
her father would tolerate material from a
Similar Books
