Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive (15 page)

“Ma’am, you must understand, I cannot promise anything. But if it is in my power, I could think of nothing finer than to accept your husband’s offer.”

“My husband is as excellent a judge of men as ever I have known. He eagerly awaits the day you shall work alongside him.” She stepped closer. “A word of advice. At the first sign of trouble, seek out his agents. The list in your pocket may prove a great shield against danger of any kind. I know from firsthand experience that his reach is great and his allies loyal.”

Falconer bowed formally over the hand. “I feel far stronger now than even a few moments before, ma’am.”

“Go with God, John Falconer.”

The kitten did not much appreciate its new leash, silken or not. In fact, it cried loud enough to be heard over the rattling clamor of a carriage making its way through crowded streets. But no one paid it much mind. Hannah watched idly from her corner of the carriage as the little animal struggled to push the noose back over its ears. But clearly the farewells had wearied the child, for soon enough she appeared to drift away.

Gareth Powers slumped beside her in the other corner and winced over the worst of the bumps. Reginald Langston
accompanied them, observing his brother-in-law with silent alarm. Several times he started to speak, yet restrained himself until they passed through the scarred stone gates marking the harbor entrance. The carriage slowed there, joining a long line of coaches and supply wagons moving toward the quays.

Gareth opened his eyes then and glanced out the side window. “Finally,” he murmured. “Thank the dear Lord above. Finally.”

Reginald could hold himself back no longer. “Brother, are you certain—”

Gareth stayed him with an upraised hand. “Don’t. I beg you. I can’t spare the energy for further argument.”

Reginald sighed and shook his head.

Gareth turned from his inspection of the schooner. “If staying in bed was the answer, don’t you think I would be healed by now?”

“I do worry about you, Gareth, you know.”

“And I am forever grateful for your kind support.” Gareth turned back to the three masts thrust into an overcast sky. He said to himself and the approaching storm, “I long for my dear wife with a hunger that clenches my very soul.”

“I miss Mama too,” Hannah said softly. “Awfully much.”

“I did not realize you were awake, my sweet child.”

“I’m so very tired of sleeping.” She smiled. “Does that sound silly?”

“Quite the opposite. I could not have said it better myself.”

Reginald turned to Falconer and asked, “What say you to this voyage and their state of health?”

“I would rather not speak to it, sir.”

“And why not, pray tell? Come, my man. I value your opinion.”

“I try to have none,” Falconer replied simply. “I am too constrained by my own desires and needs. Any outlook I offer would be marked. If they say go, I am ready. But I do not wish to say more, for the words could well be an untruth fueled by my own strong need.”

Reginald nodded slowly. “The more you speak, sir, the more I urge you to return and accept my offer.”

Gareth turned his head from the window to ask, “What offer is that, pray tell?”

“I shall let Falconer tell you when he is ready.”

The carriage moved farther into the harbor’s tumult and halted. The driver leaped down, approached the side window, and said to Reginald, “Looks like this is as close as we can come, sir. The wagons at quayside are packed up tight as eels in jelly.”

“Can you walk from here?” Reginald asked his brother-in-law.

“If I must.”

But Falconer said, “Stay as you are.”

Both Reginald and Gareth noted the change in his tone. “What is it?”

Falconer did not reply. Instead, he opened the carriage door and stepped lightly onto the high carriage wheel. Carefully he surveyed the crowd.

“Falconer?”

“A moment.” There was nothing to be seen. Nothing, that is, that he could identify. But he smelled trouble. It was a knack born upon long experience, a hunter’s ability to read signs and follow his intuition. There were moments like now when he could not say what troubled him. But danger’s foul odor drifted in the rising wind.

There
. To his right, where the crowds were thickest, a man with a battered tricorn hat. He was using a wagon wheel as a ladder and was scouting the perimeter—as Falconer himself was doing. Watching for them. Falconer was sure of it.

There again
. Another man, similarly dressed in dusty hat and road-worn cloak, though the day was stifling hot. This one stood upon a lamppost’s base and craned over the throngs. As he did so, his cloak blew back, revealing a musket.

Falconer slipped back inside the carriage. “Go shipboard,” he told Reginald. “Walk with the driver. Find two strong and trusted seamen. No officers. Men who know their way around a fight.”

“What is it?” Gareth demanded.

Falconer stayed him with an upraised hand. To Reginald he continued, “I want you to remain shipboard. Let the driver lead them here. Do you travel armed?”

Reginald’s eyes had widened. “Don’t be absurd! We’re in the harbor of our nation’s capital!”

The driver was obviously of a different view. He said through the carriage door, “I always carry a pistol, sir.”

Falconer reached under his seat and came up with his sheathed sword. “Keep it at the ready.”

Reginald started to object. “But—”

Falconer shifted slightly to look directly into his face. It was a habit he had learned when commanding a vessel. All he needed was to reveal a trace of the intensity, a hint of the experience behind his words. Whatever Reginald saw there in his face was enough to silence the man, as swift as a hand to his mouth. “Hurry,” Falconer said.

Reginald clambered down from the coach. He cast a final glance back at Falconer.

“Best we do as the man says, Mr. Reginald, sir,” the driver urged.

Reginald hastened with the driver toward the quayside. Falconer watched until they were lost in the press of men and wagons and animals. He checked carefully from both windows, then turned back to the two remaining passengers. Gareth was observing him with full alertness now, showing the steady calm of one who had been under fire before.

Hannah, however, had scrunched up tight against the seat’s opposite end. Falconer sat next to her, checked carefully out the window, then took one of her little hands in his. “Do you recall our conversation this morning?”

Slowly she nodded.

“I want you to do exactly as I say, and without either hesitation or fear.” He spoke with a calm cadence, gently pressing his words through the child’s evident alarm. “I will protect you. You must remember that at all times.”

“Can I be a little bit afraid?”

“Of course. Everyone feels some fear.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I . . .” Falconer checked himself at the sound of shrill piping. He knew the sound very well. The bosun’s roar was loud enough to dim the harbor’s racket. “Master coming aboard!”

Not long now
. Falconer returned his attention to the young girl. “Everyone is afraid at times, of something. The key is to use the fear.”

“H-how?”

He glanced across the carriage. “Your father knows.”

Gareth met Falconer’s eye before replying, “What does not destroy you makes you stronger.”

“Like this ailment?” Her voice was tiny but clear.

“Just so.” He coughed softly. “When you are afraid, let honesty help you identify the true reason. Use the energy to heighten your senses. Use the peak of your abilities to forge ahead. Don’t freeze, don’t panic. That’s the key.”

“I see I am right,” Falconer told Gareth, “to address the child as I would an adult.”

“In many respects she is an adult already,” Gareth confirmed. “Her body has merely not caught up with her mind and her spirit.”

The girl’s next question was cut off by the arrival of two sailors. One was a muscled brute with the eyes of a heartless fighter. The other was smaller and more cautious, standing a half pace back and scouting constantly. The muscled man knuckled his forehead and said to Falconer, “Captain ordered us to help you board, sir.”

“Your name, sailor?”

“Connor, sir. This here’s MacAughley.”

“I’m Falconer.” He opened the door but did not step down. Instead, he fished in his pocket and drew out two gold half sovereigns. “I believe in paying well. There’s half a crown for the each of you when we arrive on board. Good Georgie gold. Now then. You’ve both seen some close-quarters work?”

“Aye, sir.” The muscled sailor seemed to find grim humor in such a conversation with a man dressed in landlubber’s clothes. “That we have.”

“Here’s how I want to play this. Connor, you’re to give the gentleman here a hand. His name is Powers. He’s been tested by the croup. Don’t let him tell you he’s strong enough to make it on his own. I aim for us to move at boarding speed. Is that clear?”

“Aye, sir. Clear enough.”

“What about me, sir?” MacAughley asked.

“I want you to drift away. See who might be after doing us harm. If you can, capture them. But above all don’t let them injure either of these here.” He turned to the two passengers. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Gareth replied for them both while Hannah gave a careful nod.

Falconer motioned Gareth forward. As Gareth descended to the cobblestones, Falconer unsheathed his sword. He despised how the sight of steel drew blanched fright from the child. “Remember what I said,” he told Hannah. “I will not let anyone harm you or your father. Do you trust me?”

She responded with a shiver of a nod. Her eyes did not leave the naked blade.

Falconer stuffed the scabbard into his belt. He gripped the sword’s hilt with his right hand, then scooped up the child with his left. “One hand tight to my neck, now. Hold your knees high as you can when I run. And keep a firm grip on the kitten.”

As he slipped through the doorway, a splinter of wood was blasted from the doorframe above his head. He heard
gunfire and smelled the sudden cloud of sulfur. The attacker was very close indeed.

Screams arose from the surrounding crowd. People milled and shoved in every direction, uncertain from which quarter the danger arose. Falconer tumbled to the ground, his body crouched over the child. Hannah did exactly as ordered, gripping him tightly with one arm and both legs. He rose swiftly, the child clinging to him like a well-trained whelp.

“Together now! Boarding speed!”

Two more shots rang through the sudden stillness. They sounded like the cough of a great hoarse beast, one against whom Falconer had fought far too often.

The market erupted into panic-stricken bedlam. Connor scooped up Gareth Powers with one arm and with his other swept out a long, curved blade.

“Give them a shout and let them know we’re on the attack!” Falconer ordered.

With Gareth between them, Falconer and Connor gave a furious roar and surged forward. They waved the blades over their heads as they ran. Animals and people shied away in startled panic, shrieking in unison and parting before them. All but one man, who shoved his way forward against the surge and tried to take aim with a long-barreled musket.

But Falconer did not seek to evade, as expected. Instead he ducked and raced straight at the shooter, roaring all the louder. Before the attacker could adjust his aim, Falconer drove his blade up sharp against the barrel. It slid the length of metal with a shrill screech. Falconer used the handguard to punch the rifle straight upward. The man’s shot hit nothing but cloud. Falconer’s charge was relentless. He used the pommel to sweep the musket out of the man’s grasp, then clouted the man’s forehead. The attacker blinked once and went down. All the while Hannah clung to him, making nary a sound.

Falconer stumbled over the man’s legs and might have fallen had Gareth not reached over and kept him upright. Together
the four of them pounded along the quayside and up the gangplank and into the safety of the ship.

As Falconer deposited the child into the arms of a wide-eyed officer, he said, “Please tell me you are all right.”

“I’m fine.” She held to a breathless calm. “You told me I would be, and I am.”

“What a fine, brave girl you are.”