Page 42

The streets were silent now, in these hours before dawn. Sara found the quiet even more unsettling than the warning bells and the distant shouts she’d heard earlier.

A sharp tap sounded on the back door, and she sprang out of the chair.

Heart pounding, she peeled back a corner of the kitchen curtain.

A man stood on the back step, the weary slope of his shoulders seeming to indicate that he posed no threat.

Her eyes caught the sweep of black hair curling from beneath the brim of an oversized beaver hat. Andrew Ridley. Alone.

She rushed to the door. Andrew stood, pale and disheveled. He clutched his left arm, holding it tight to his side.

“Mr. Ridley?” She covered her mouth with her hand as her stomach dropped.

He looked over his shoulder. “May I come in?”

She nodded, moving aside as he lurched into the kitchen. She gestured toward a chair, and he took a seat at the table with a sigh of relief.

“You’re hurt. What happened?”

“Bullet grazed me. I’m fine.”

His pale face and trembling hands didn’t look fine to her.

Granny’s teaching took over and she bit back her questions about James and the events of the evening.

First, tend the patient. “Here, let me clean it.” She moved about the kitchen, rekindling the stove and setting the kettle on to boil without conscious thought, her mind still racing with worry.

“It’s all right. A wo—someone already cleaned it.” Sara looked closer and saw the outline of a bandage under his jacket. Her eyes flew back to his face, but he was scanning the room, a crease between his brows. “Where’s James?”

“James? He went after you.” Sara didn’t need to see the blank look in Andrew’s eyes to know something was wrong.

“He did?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

“A message came from Ballantine around eleven. Said you’d gone to Montgomery’s Tavern and James should fetch you back straight away.” Sara searched Andrew’s face for some indication of what happened to James, but the man seemed utterly confounded.

“I never saw him.”

Sara tried to decide if that fact was comforting. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”

“We got word to assemble at Montgomery’s Tavern. Mackenzie said it would be tonight.”

“The rebellion?” Sara said, pushing a glass of water into his hands.

Andrew nodded. “Mackenzie wanted to see Toronto’s defenses firsthand.

I was chosen to be part of the scouting party.

” He leaned toward Sara. “They saw Charger, of course. Not a horse can match him for stamina.” He grinned with a flash of his old boyish charm.

“He doesn’t feel the cold at all.” His smiled faded quickly.

“But then—” He broke off and took a gulp of water.

Sara wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what came next. “And then?”

“There was a picket set up along the road. We weren’t expecting them.” He shuddered. “He shot Anderson. Right through the neck.”

“Who did?”

Andrew looked at her, his face pale. “Osgoode. I saw him, clear as day. He called out my name. I thought he meant to warn me, but he...” His voice lowered to a whisper.

Worry for James was rapidly turning into panic. A man had died. Osgoode was involved. Where was James?

“He shot me, too.” There was a dazed confusion in Andrew’s eyes that Sara understood. Why would Osgoode shoot a colleague, and Ballantine’s godson at that?

“How did you get away?”

“I kept my seat when Charger bolted through the woods and he eventually found his way back to the road.” His forehead crinkled in worry.

“I don’t know where Charger is now. I must have lost consciousness and fallen off at some point.

Next thing I knew, I woke up at the side of the road.

” He broke off with a self-conscious glance at Sara.

“I came here thinking James could help me figure out what’s to be done now.

” He glanced around the room as though he expected James would step out from behind the cookstove and save the day.

“We have to find him.” Sara stood.

“I can’t. I was recognized.” He ran a shaky hand over his face. “I need to disappear for a while until this all dies down. James will be home soon. Tell him I’ll send word when I can.”

“What if James is hurt?” Sara turned on Andrew, her fear making her lash out. “Why didn’t you heed James’s warning? He told you to stay clear of the rebels, didn’t he?”

Andrew winced. “If I could go back, I would, but...”

The sight of his stricken face stilled the angry words on Sara’s tongue.

He rose and Sara moved to follow him to the door. “If James isn’t back, you must go to Ballantine.”

Sara froze. Ballantine. Not a chance I’ll be going there for help. “How could he help? He’s not a magistrate.”

Andrew studied her face for a moment. “He’s a powerful man.” His eyes narrowed. “But whatever you do, don’t go to Osgoode.” His brows contracted. “James never trusted him, and he’s got a good nose for that sort of thing. Stay clear of the man.”

Sara nodded her agreement. If Andrew only knew.

A distant musket shot echoed through the silence that had descended on the kitchen, making Andrew jump to his feet.

“I’ve got to get out of the city.” He set his hat back on his head.

“I’m serious about Ballantine, Sara. He’s got influence. Go to him if you need anything.”

She was the last person Ballantine would help. Sara forced a nod, following Andrew to the door. She’d think of something.

“Andrew, wait.” Turning back to the kitchen, she shoved a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese into a sack and pushed it into his hands. He looked down, his hands flexing on the bag.

“Thank you.” He met her eyes. “I’m sorry for the way I acted this morning.” His eyes were dark with regret. “You’ll be a good wife to James. A better wife than I am a friend.”

Sara nodded, watching as he slipped out and disappeared into the darkness. Her mind was whirling, her hands shaking as she gripped the edge of the table.

James, where are you?

Henry arrived at the back door at dawn, shaking with cold and fatigue.

Sara ushered him into the kitchen where Mrs. Hobbes was bustling about as though her breakfast alone would be enough to bring James home.

“What happened? Where’s Jam—er, Mr. Kinney?” Sara said, plunking him down in a chair next to the stove and wrapping a quilt around his shoulders.

“I tried to help him.” The words burst out of Henry. His eyes filled, and he blinked, his lower lip trembling.

Sara had never heard Henry at a loss for words. Suppressing her worry, she knelt in front of the boy, placing her hands on his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “Of course, you did.”

“They nabbed ’im.”

Sara was well enough acquainted with the language of the slums to know exactly what this meant. “He’s in prison?” The words caught in her throat. At least he was alive.

Mrs. Hobbes let out a gasp and turned from the counter, a fork suspended in her hand.

“Aye. On the way back, they was waiting in the road, just like they knew we’d be coming. Guv tried to talk his way out of it, but they said it’s treason.” He shook his head. “Ain’t no way to get out of that.”

“It’s a mistake.” Sara jumped to her feet, pacing to the door and back again. “He only went to help Mr. Ridley.”

Mrs. Hobbes sat a heaping plate of eggs and toast in front of Henry, but for once the boy wasn’t interested in food.

“It’s my fault. I oughtn’t to have brought that message last night.” Henry picked up his fork and pushed the eggs around on his plate. “Knew there was something funny about that man.”

Sara stilled her flying thoughts. “What man?”

“Ballantine. Only, that’s not his name. Osgoode, that’s what guv called him. He’s the one who gave me the note to deliver.” Henry looked up, his eyes full of tears. “And he’s the one who nabbed guv. I shoulda known it was a trap.”

What game did Stephen Osgoode play? It grew deeper and more forbidding with each new revelation. “Henry, you did just as you ought.” She reached out and smoothed a rebellious lock of hair from his forehead. “Without you, I wouldn’t even know Mr. Kinney was in prison.”

“Why would anyone put Papa in prison?” Evie entered the kitchen in her nightgown, hair askew, her sharp eyes taking in the occupants of the room.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent, for none of them knew how best to answer her.

Evie turned to her with trust in her eyes, as though Sara could solve every problem. “It’s not true, right, Mama?”

“It is so true.” Henry dropped his fork and crossed his arms. “D’you think I would lie about something like that?”

“I don’t believe it.” Evie took a step forward, jutting out her chin and looking Henry in the eyes.

Sara moved to Evie and put an arm around her shoulders. “If your papa is in prison, it was a mistake.” Sara injected optimism into her voice that she was far from feeling. “I’ll go right now and clear it up.”

Evie turned. “I’ll get dressed.”

Sara stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “No, my love. You can’t come.”

Evie froze. “Papa might need me.”

“ I need you to stay right here, with Henry and Mrs. Hobbes. In case your papa sends word.” Evie crossed her arms, looking her most stubborn. “The warden might not even let me in, never mind two of us.”

“But—”

Sara placed a finger over Evie’s mouth. “It’s what your papa would want. You know it. Come, help me get some supplies together to take.”

Evie shrugged off Sara’s hand but went willingly enough to fetch paper and ink.

After the long night of worry, it felt good to do something and Sara’s spirits lifted as she worked.

She repeated Granny’s verse to herself. Surely, she’d finished her suffering.

Let this be my last trial. I’m ready to settle, to find joy in life again.