Page 41

Wilkie’s eyes shifted to the side, and he coughed. “Ridley, you say?” He took a step back and looked around. “Best ask Lount,” he said, nodding in the direction of a muscled giant, barking orders to a young man who then left his side at a run.

James eyed the man as he approached. He’d heard of Samuel Lount, the well-known blacksmith of Holland Landing, and it seemed the stories hadn’t been exaggerated. His size alone gave him an aura of command. “Excuse me. Mr. Lount?”

The man turned to James. “Yes?” He didn’t look up from the note in his hand.

“I’m looking for Andrew Ridley. Have you seen him?”

“Assigned to the scouting party with Mackenzie. Left an hour ago.” The man looked up, his eyes narrowing on James’s face. “Who are you?”

“James Kinney. A friend.” Lount looked James up and down. He hadn’t dressed for a night battle, nor was he armed. No wonder Lount’s suspicions were raised. “Perhaps I ought to follow him,” James said, anxious to be out of the man’s presence.

Lount reached out a beefy hand, grasping James’s forearm. “Now just wait a minute. What squadron are you in?”

Two men galloped into the clearing, saving James from answering. “Ambushed!” one shouted. “Captain Anderson’s been shot!”

Lount dropped his arm, rushing to the arrivals with a barrage of questions.

Bile rose in James’s throat. The violence had begun.

He pushed closer, trying to hear as much of the story as he could.

What of Andrew Ridley? He wanted to shout his question, but caution held him back.

He’d be no good to Andrew if these men decided he was a spy.

Instead, he listened as the man sputtered his tale of ambush and the shot through the neck that killed Captain Anderson. The men grew restless as the tale spread through the crowd. At once the mood shifted from defiance to uncertainty.

The other man who’d arrived now made his presence felt. He was wrapped in a huge greatcoat which seemed to swell his size, and his voice rang out across the clearing.

“A great man has fallen,” he shouted. The milling men stilled, and faces turned to the figure on the white horse.

“But we will not be deterred from our fight.” His voice was unmistakably Scots, and its lilting cadence captivated every man in the yard.

For the first time, James felt the pull of William Lyon Mackenzie and understood why Andrew risked his life and livelihood for the man.

“A wicked government has trampled the law.” He rose in the saddle, turning as though he would look each man in the face.

“We are poor, ignorant peasants, they say, born to toil for our betters.” The men booed and hissed at this, joining Mackenzie’s fervor.

“But we have opened our eyes. Felt our strength. We will persevere!” A roar of approval echoed through the innyard. “To your posts, men. Victory awaits!”

Men rushed to ready their arms and find mounts.

Lount called out orders, largely ignored as men flocked to Mackenzie’s side.

James plunged through the mass of bodies and weapons, heading to the edge of the clearing.

His eyes scanned the face of every man he passed to no avail.

Andrew hadn’t returned. He’d have to find him, and soon, before he found himself pressed into a rebel squadron and sent marching into the city.

James wove his way to where he’d left Henry.

No sign of the boy or his horse. He broke into a jog, his eyes scanning the woods as he circled the clearing.

Behind him, a hastily formed troop was already setting out toward the city with a roar claiming victory was in sight.

Surely the boy hadn’t joined the rebels.

Evie would never forgive him if he let something happen to Henry.

He felt a tug at his sleeve and slowed to find Henry at his elbow, tears tracking down his cheeks.

“I tried to stop ’em, guv, I did. But they just grabbed the reins right away from me.”

James understood in an instant what must have happened. “They confiscated my mount?”

Henry nodded, looking down. “I’m sorry, sir.”

James squeezed Henry’s bony shoulder. “It’s not your fault, my boy.”

Henry looked up, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You’re not mad at me?”

In the moonlight, the red welt of a whip was visible on Henry’s face. “You’re hurt. Tell me you didn’t try to fight them off.”

Henry lifted his chin. “I know where my duty be, sir.”

James didn’t know how he’d acquired such a loyal supporter. If only Andrew paid him half as much heed. “We’ve got to get out of here, lad. Before they get more than just my horse.”

Henry nodded, his eyes scanning James doubtfully from head to toe. “I reckon we’ll have to walk.”

James smiled, pulling the boy further into the woods as another troop approached. “Afraid I can’t hack it?”

Henry grinned back. “I reckon you can make it just fine, sir.”

“If they should come after us... if anything should happen, I want you to run straight back to the city. I need you to keep an eye on Mrs. Kinney and Evie. All right?”

Henry looked up at him for a long moment. “Who’ll be keeping an eye on you, guv?”

James would have laughed if the boy’s expression hadn’t been so deadly earnest. “I’ll be fine. I’m a barrister, remember? I can talk my way out of anything. Now, let’s go.”

Henry gave a reluctant nod and started through the woods.

Every few moments they would stop and listen, keeping the sounds of the troops on the road to their left.

Even in the dark, they could move much faster than the regimented columns of men holding heavy weapons and they soon left the lines of rebels behind.

James kept an eye on the clear, starry sky so he wouldn’t lose his way.

Henry marched gamely beside him, never complaining as they stumbled through a marsh and icy water seeped into their boots.

“Listen, guv. You hear that?”

Across the fields came a faint tinkling sound.

The city had realized the danger and the bells rang, calling men to its defense.

James released a slow breath and pulled his hat lower over his ears.

This was a fine kettle of fish. He’d left Sara and Evie alone, defenseless.

He pictured his home, Sara curled up in his bed, and felt such a rush of longing, it almost crippled him.

At the next fence line, he turned in the direction of the road and led them back to Yonge Street. Henry trotted at his side, only his silence giving away how exhausted the boy must be. “You all right, Henry?”

“Never been better.”

James felt a rush of tenderness. Henry deserved a chance to make something of himself.

When they made it through this night, when life was back to normal again, James would see to it that Henry had that chance.

We are poor, ignorant peasants, they say, born to toil and sweat for our betters.

Mackenzie’s words hit him anew with the force of their logic.

The world wasn’t right. Ballantine and his cronies weren’t right, either.

Things needed to change, and he wanted to be a part of it. I’ll make a difference. I’ll do better.

Henry skittered to a halt, yanking on his arm. James had let his attention wander, let down his guard for a moment. Three men stood in the middle of the road in front of a makeshift barricade of logs and brush. He’d forgotten about the picket.

James gave Henry a push. The boy slid into the ditch at side of the road and disappeared seconds before the men reached James.

“You, there. Hands up where we can see them.” One of the men pointed a musket at James, and he raised his hands. “Now walk forward, nice and slow.” James stepped forward, swallowing a sigh of relief as he drew closer and recognized one of the men.

“Sheriff Jarvis? Thank goodness. I’ve come from Montgomery’s. Men are heading this way. Armed.”

“So we’ve heard.” James recognized the crisp tones of the other man though he could scarcely credit his ears. Stephen Osgoode stepped out from behind Jarvis, his face now visible in the moonlight.

“Osgoode?” James took a step forward, more confident now. He had no idea how Osgoode had ended up manning a picket, but he was glad to see another familiar face.

“What were you doing at Montgomery’s Tavern, Kinney?” Osgoode’s question cracked like a whip in the cold night air. “Joining the rebels?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Osgoode. Ballantine sent me.”

“Ballantine’s at the governor’s side, doing his utmost to get every man armed and ready to defend the capital. He’d hardly send you on a fool’s errand when he could use you in the city.”

“I was... I’m sure you understand why he sent me.” James sent Osgoode a meaningful stare. He hesitated to mention Andrew’s name in front of the other men and implicate him without proof. After all, he hadn’t seen his friend.

“What I understand is that we have our first rebel captive of the night.” He turned to Jarvis. “What are you waiting for?”

Jarvis hesitated, looking between the two men. “Never thought you a rebel, Kinney.” His gaze swung away, searching the dark road. “Though how you come to be here on foot at this time of night beats me.”

“I went to check out a report I’d heard. My horse was stolen and—”

“Men were asked to report to City Hall to defend our city.” Osgoode ignored James, focusing his words on Jarvis. “Kinney came north instead.” He shrugged, as though there were nothing left to discuss. As though he hadn’t known James for ten years. “What more proof do we need?”

The man’s duplicity took James’s breath away. Osgoode seemed determined to push Jarvis into arresting him. Anger coursed through him, urging him to some rash action that wouldn’t help his cause.

“Come with me, Kinney.” The older man grabbed James by the arm. James was so surprised, it took him a moment to wrest his arm free.

“What on earth? You can’t possibly mean to arrest me. I came up here to talk some sense into them.” James looked at the other two men. They were faintly familiar. Guards at the jail, he thought. No one who would vouch for him. “Jarvis, listen, I came here at Ballantine’s request.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Osgoode said. The glow of triumph lit his face. “Jarvis, you were there last week, at Ballantine’s. Kinney all but acknowledged himself a rebel.”

James felt his world tilt. “I’m not a rebel,” he said, his words low and fierce.

“Guess you’d best save it for the judge.” Jarvis tied James’s hands behind his back. James thought he saw the guards smirk. No doubt it gave them pleasure to see a barrister brought low. “We’ve got orders to stop anyone coming down this road tonight.”

“I’d like to see the warrant.” James planted his feet, stalling for time, the bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth. It was futile. He wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this.

“Warrant, eh?” Osgoode’s voice was mocking. One of the guards shoved James forward and he nearly fell. “You ought to know better.”

“Know what?” James said, only just staying on his feet.

“Don’t need a warrant for treason.”