Crow Hollow (15 page)

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

“Is she asleep?” Cooper asked in a low voice. The two men were smoking pipes by the fire, while Prudence lay in one of the two beds, her eyes closed, but not asleep.

It wasn’t hard to stay awake, the way her toes were itching from chilblains, and the other itching all over her body—perhaps imagined—of the no-doubt lice-infested blankets in which she slept. It smelled strongly of a man, and not the good kind of masculine smell, but stale sweat.

There was a second bed, and the men would be sharing that one. Why there was a second bed, she couldn’t tell, since Burrows apparently lived alone.

As shameful as it was to admit it, she’d rather be in the clean, comfortable inn, sharing a bed with James, than in Burrows’s disgusting bed alone.

Or maybe you’d like to be sharing a bed with James, regardless of the circumstances.

She quickly put this unholy thought out of her mind.

“Prudie?” James said.

She didn’t answer. It may have been deceptive, but she desperately wanted to overhear their conversation. They were hiding things from her, and she wanted to know what.

“She’s asleep,” James said after several seconds.

“Did you call her Prudie?” Cooper asked with a chuckle. “Bless me, but that’s familiar.”

“A friendship, nothing more. We’ve already suffered a good deal together. Anyway, I believe her trustworthy.”

“Does she know the real reason you came to New England?”

“She’s a clever woman. I’m sure she has guessed.”

It was flattering that he thought so, but in truth, she hadn’t. James had arrived in Boston ostensibly to investigate Sir Benjamin’s death at the hands of the Indians, and she supposed the Crown had legitimate reasons to question the death of its agent. And yet his actions seemed entirely too disrupting, too determined to cause an uproar, to be explained with such a direct motive. But she couldn’t puzzle out what his real intent might be.

“If she’s as clever as you think, she’s dangerous.”

“How so?” James asked.

“A woman like that offers her first loyalty to God, as she should. Next comes her country. These Puritans are fanatical about that.”

“Her country is England.”

“Her country is
New
England. Never forget that. Some day they will press the issue, you’ll see.”

“It’s my duty to make sure that doesn’t happen,” James said. “Besides, even the most devout woman has higher loyalties than God and country.”

“You mean her husband and child? They’re both dead.”

“Then justice for their murders.”

So he hadn’t told Cooper about her daughter. Was that because James didn’t believe Mary was still alive? Or because he didn’t trust the man?

And what was this about her loyalties to New England? It had never occurred to her that New England might declare open treason. Perish the thought. They were English through and through, and without the protection of the mother country, they would quickly fall prey to ravenous wolves like France or Spain, or even the Dutch. To say nothing of the powerful tribes of the wilderness like the Iroquois.

“What more justice do you want?” Cooper said. “Knapp and his sort put an end to the Indian trouble. Those beasts are utterly destroyed or sold into bondage. They are nothing but ghosts in this land. Someday they will be only a memory.”

“You assume the Indians are responsible.”

“You’ve read Widow Cotton’s story, haven’t you? She saw them cutting off Benjamin’s fingers. She heard his screams as he begged for death.”

“Yes, I know.”

“They pulled out his intestines like he was a wretched pig at the slaughter,” Cooper continued.

Prudence squeezed her eyes shut. A tremble worked down her back. Please, let them stop.

“Aye, and told her later that they’d eaten his liver, the brutes,” Cooper said.

Prudence shoved a corner of the filthy blanket into her mouth and bit down to keep from screaming.

“Shh,” James urged. “Keep your voice down. Even asleep she can hear you. You’ll surely give her nightmares. Prudie,” he said softly after a few seconds. “Are you awake?”

Again, she didn’t answer, but his soothing tone eased her pounding heart. She pulled the blanket corner from her mouth and wiped her mouth quietly on the back of her hand.

“You fancy her, don’t you?” Cooper said.

“Whether I do or not is beside the point.”

“I’m telling you, there’s something seductive about these women, about this place.”

“And I tell you, I’m leaving. The moment my business is done, the
Vigilant
will carry me back to England where I will claim my prize.”

“And the widow wouldn’t dream of leaving New England, so there you have it. Ah, well.”

“She’s only a woman,” James said. “Anywhere you go, you’ll find them just as beautiful.”

His words cut. How could he be so kind and gentle one moment, so cruel the next? When they’d come into the house, the first thing he’d done had been to heat water on the hearth to soak her poor, chilled feet. He’d then washed her socks and set them out to dry and made sure she had warm ones to put on. He’d given her bed the cleanest blankets he could find (such as that was possible), and used the bed warmer, as if he were the woman and she the man. All because he was worried about her feet.

He only needs you able to walk and ride, that’s what matters to him.

“If all of that is true, why did you bring the widow?” Cooper asked.

“She got me out of Boston. After that, I fully intended to leave her in Springfield and continue on alone. Prudence is safe enough on her own—she enjoys a certain repute, after all.”

“To be easily recognized is not always a good thing in New England. Most people love her, but there is some jealousy, some of the usual gossip. Still,” Cooper added, “you’re right. All she has to do is announce her presence and she’s untouchable. So why didn’t you leave her?”

“She’s useful. She killed a man on the road, might have saved my life. And she’s clever too. Has helped me figure out several things that I otherwise might not have seen.”

Listening, Prudence felt a swelling of pride that James would consider her an asset, almost an equal. Not only was he a man, but a worldly sort too, out on grand adventures. And she was only a simple girl from New England, born of a simple people.

Even her husband, who had seemed to love her, couldn’t help but laugh at some of the silly, naïve things that would come out of her mouth. Once, after she had pontificated at some length how playacting was the devil’s work (the memory made her cringe in embarrassment now), Benjamin had gone to the bookshelf without a word, then pressed a folio of Shakespeare’s plays into her hands. “Start with
Macbeth
. It has witchcraft, murder—every diabolical thing you can imagine. But read it and tell me that Shakespeare’s work is of the devil.”

Of course she had read it, and everything else in the book, and many times too. Next to some of the more beautiful psalms, it was the most wonderful thing she had ever read.

“Prudence Cotton is a handsome woman,” Cooper said. “Are you sure there’s not another motive?”

“How many ways must I say it? Leave it alone—I am not enamored of the widow.”

Just as quickly, Prudence’s pride deflated. Here came a whisper of disappointment in its wake. In spite of his earlier protests, she’d noticed the way James looked at her when they rode, so she hadn’t fully believed them. What’s more, she now realized that she’d been hoping, somewhere inside, that he was beginning to have feelings. And if she were honest with herself, her own feelings for him were growing.

This, however, was a definitive statement.

Don’t be a fool. That would be impossible anyway. He’s not Benjamin—he won’t stay in Massachusetts. He’s on his way back to London.

“There’s one other thing,” James continued. “She speaks Nipmuk.”

That’s right. You’re a tool in his hands.

“And you no longer have the Indian,” Cooper said. “Ah, yes, I remember. You wish to speak to the Indians. Do you think the widow unreliable in her account?”

“Nay, she is not unreliable. She has a fine memory and is a keen witness. But I have questions. Why did Winton’s neighbors attack, when they had pledged eternal friendship? The treachery must have come as a surprise, or Sir Benjamin would not have been in Winton with his family when it came. Perchance another survivor in Winton will have more substance on the matter. If not, I will look for the Indians to hear their account.”

“A shame your Praying Indian died. The better to preserve your scalp when you meet the savages. Yet, ’twould seem the old fool came all the way from England for naught.”

“Bite your tongue,” James said in a sharp voice. “Peter Church is dead. He gave his life in service of the Crown.”

“Forgive me, I misspoke.” Cooper sounded genuinely contrite. “It occurs to me, however,” he added after a moment, “that if you truly hoped to disrupt these Puritans, to rile them, there’s no better way to kick at the wasp nest than bringing in a Quaker to blather on like an idiot, as they do. Except, maybe, a Quaker who was also a Nipmuk. Seems that it worked a little too well.”

“Admittedly, yes. I didn’t think his life would be in danger or I wouldn’t have done it. And Indian or no, I swear I will find his murderers and see them hanged.”

“At the end of the day, the Indian’s death only provides more powder for your musket. A better excuse to do what you came to do.”

“Right. I have plenty of reason, now. No matter what happened at Winton and Crow Hollow, Peter’s murder is more than sufficient cause. Even those stubborn oafs in Parliament will concede.”

Cause for what? Concede what?

Suddenly, Prudence knew. The charters. Her mouth went dry.

He’d come for the charters of the New England colonies: Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Plymouth. Even feisty little Rhode Island.

There was no need to sever their connection to England, because they were already, de facto, independent of both king and Parliament. They could appoint their own governors, make their own laws, keep their own courts. They were, and always had been, free of the tyrants in England, both Oliver Cromwell and the kings alike.

But if King Charles—or rather, his agent—seized the charters, what would New England become? Why, no better than Virginia or New York. A Crown colony, under the complete domination of the whims of English politics.

She couldn’t let that happen. Somehow, she had to get warning back to Boston. Reverend Stone would know what to do. But how to do it?

And then the answer came to her.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

Prudence was acting strange the next morning. First, she spent so long in the privy that James went out and knocked, jokingly asked if she’d frozen to the seat. In reality, he was afraid that she’d taken ill. She’d eaten little of the hot oatmeal they’d boiled for breakfast, and spoken less.

She insisted she was fine, and she came out a few minutes later with her cloak drawn tight against the cold. But twenty minutes later, when they were back in the saddle and traveling north, they hadn’t ridden more than ten minutes up the road when she cried out that she’d left something at the house. What, she wouldn’t say, but she had to go back and get it.

James said he’d go back with her, but she insisted on going alone.

“Well then, what is it?” he demanded, a little irritated by the delay.

She looked hurt, which made him feel guilty. “You’re a man. You wouldn’t understand.”

And with that, she turned the horse and trotted back.

“The devil take us,” Cooper said. “Not now.”

“Not now, what?” James asked, confused. “What the devil is she doing?”

“You’ve never been married,” Cooper said, “or you wouldn’t need to ask that.”

“What do you mean? Oh!” James added, his face flushing. “She’s having her monthly courses.”

“Every day I thank the good Lord that I’m not a woman,” Cooper said. “Imagine being on the road and facing that?”

“Yes. Well. We don’t know for sure, so keep your mouth shut when she gets back.”

“What else could it be? Either that, or she’s a spy, and she’s gone back to meet Samuel Knapp on the road, to tell him our plans.”

They both laughed at that, but later, James found himself looking over at Prudence to see if she were giving any guilty signs. For that matter, could he even trust Cooper? Six years with the natives, after all.

Just in case, it wouldn’t hurt to be more guarded with his information.

The weather warmed throughout the day, and by late afternoon the three companions were able to shuck off their cloaks whenever the road came into open meadows next to the river. They overtook a man with a cart, and then two boys crossed their path riding a pony, dragging an empty sledge toward Springfield.

An hour later the highway forked, with the main road continuing along the river, while the other was almost completely covered in snow as it returned to the forest. Both roads led to Winton, Cooper claimed, but the second, forested road would be safer. Slower, but empty of traffic. So they entered the woods.

It was soon clear why the second road was little used. After about a mile they emerged from the woods and into fields that surrounded a desolate village. Nearly every house had burned to the ground, and there wasn’t a soul to be seen. They dismounted to clear broken carts that had barricaded a small stone bridge over the creek, then passed the skeletal remains of the flour mill before passing out of town.

A few miles farther, they approached another desolate village, only this one was Indian. Wigwams lay in charred ruins, partially overgrown by leafless vines, and here and there were overturned reed baskets or corncobs sticking out of the snow, their kernels long-since gnawed away by mice or voles. A human skull, buried in frozen mud almost up to the eye sockets, stared at them dolefully as they rode by.

James wanted to dismount and look about, but Cooper and Prudence both begged him not to, so they continued. After that, Cooper grew quiet, refusing to engage in conversation, and later he said that he’d fought a battle in that very spot against a group of Wampanoag, with King Philip himself at the head of the enemy forces. Three English fell, “knocked on the head,” as he put it, and two more were taken captive. Their disemboweled bodies had come floating down the river a few days later. But when James asked if Cooper had been present at the destruction of the Indian village, he refused to answer.

Prudence kept looking over her shoulder as they left the Indian village. At first, it seemed a nervous reflex, as if she expected the skeletons of the dead to come shambling up the road after them. But as they continued, her interest in the road behind only grew. James watched surreptitiously, growing more suspicious by the minute. Once, she caught him watching and looked quickly, guiltily away. Now he was convinced.

He came up beside her and grabbed the reins to pull her horse to a stop. “That’s far enough.”

“What? Why are we stopping?”

Cooper turned his horse, a scowl playing across his face. “What’s going on here?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” James said. “Prudence? What’s on the road?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She sounded legitimately confused. For a moment he was almost convinced.

“You’ve been studying the road behind us since we left the Indian village. Maybe before, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“James, please. We’re almost to Winton. I’m only nervous, is all. Aren’t you worried about an ambush?”

“I wasn’t before. Now I am. And I certainly wasn’t expecting an attack from our rear. Who would come that way? We haven’t seen a soul. Unless someone knew.”

“The Indians,” she began. “They might still—”

Without waiting to see what additional lies she’d try to wedge into place, he jumped from his horse, grabbed her by the waist, and dragged her from her horse. She let out a little cry and suddenly looked terrified. He drew his dagger.

“You’ve turned into some kind of liar. But you’re not good enough to fool me.”

Cooper’s initial confusion faded, and he wore his own hard look as he joined the other two in the road. He swept aside his cloak and drew his pistol. He deliberately checked the powder in the pan and rested his thumb on the cock, ready to draw it back from half to full cock.

Prudence’s eyes darted from side to side, and her bosom heaved as she seemed to struggle for breath. James felt like a wretch for putting her to such terror, but he was more certain than ever that she was up to something, and this was not the time or place to be playing games.

“Something happened today,” he said, “because you were fine yesterday, and now you behave as if something were amiss. Did you see something or someone at the villages we passed?”

“No, nothing. I swear it.”

“Those boys on the road? The man with the cart? Did you pass them a message?”

“I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

“Wait. Last night.” He thought about his conversation with Cooper. “You weren’t asleep, were you?”

She hesitated a fraction of a second. “I slept all night.”

“Stop lying,” he said in a cold voice. “It is insulting to me. I’m trying to help you and this is the credit you give. Don’t you love your daughter?”

“James, please.” Her lip quivered.

“How are you so quick with the lies? What happened to the honest, Godly woman I met in Boston?”

This was apparently too much for her, because her eyes filled with tears and a little sob came out of her mouth. James felt low and miserable, wanting suddenly nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and offer comfort. Instead, he kept his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed.

But he couldn’t maintain his anger. After a moment, he sighed and softened his expression and voice. “Prudie, whatever you did, tell me.”

“I heard what you said about the charters.”

“Ah. And you did something, didn’t you? It must have been when you went back to the house. You led us to believe it was your monthly courses, but that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked at her feet. “Aye. It was a lie.”

“What did you do?”

“This morning when I went to the privy, I took my pen and papers. I wrote a letter. I wanted to leave it in the house, but you and Master Cooper were always there. So I contrived to return.”

A cold fear settled into his gut. “What kind of letter?”

“A letter for Reverend Stone and Goodman Fitz-Simmons in Boston. I needed to warn them you were after the charter. I promised to pay Burrows if he would deliver it.”

“Was it sealed?”

“No, it was open. I didn’t have wax.”

Cooper put away his pistol, groaning. “Damn you, woman.”

“Wasn’t it clear?” James said. “We told you, he’s a
shifty fellow.
Do you know what ‘shifty fellow’ means?”

Cooper threw up his hands. “It means he’s shifty!”

“Which you suspected already,” James said. “Or you wouldn’t keep checking the road behind us. You know full well he might have sold us out in Springfield.”

James cast a glance at the road behind them, but the twisting, snowy trail was empty as it passed through the bare trees.

“There are people looking for you in Springfield,” Cooper said. “Now Burrows knows who you are. He’s going to sell that information. He probably already has.”

Prudence looked up, chin jutting out defiantly. “There’s nothing they don’t already know. We’re on our way to Winton. Samuel Knapp is probably waiting for us already. I don’t see what’s such a secret.”

James stared at her, exasperated almost beyond words. “I’m not a fool, Prudence. Why do you think we were so careful in Springfield?”

“So they wouldn’t catch us on the road?”

“No, so they wouldn’t see that we were going to Winton and not south to Hartford like they believed.”

“To Connecticut? Why would they think that?”

He forced patience into his voice. “What’s the first thing they did when they discovered we’d fled Boston?”

“They attacked us on the highway.”

“First they had to determine that we’d left Boston in the first place. The men at the gates confirmed that, together with the missing carriage and Robert Woory. And I told Woory we were going to Hartford. He marked the transaction in his ledger. So when they checked Woory’s records . . .”

She scoffed at this. “They’d never believe that. Not when your business was in Winton and Crow Hollow. Even I could recognize such an obvious lie.”

“She has a point,” Cooper said. He had lowered his pistol and now put it away. “Nobody would expect you to tell Woory your true destination.”

“I left my sea chest in the guest bedroom at the reverend’s house. There is a hidden panel at the bottom, quite easily and intentionally discoverable. I left a letter purportedly written to the Crown.”

“How does that alter the situation?” Prudence asked.

“I said that Peter had disrupted services, enraged Fitz-Simmons, and so we could no longer trust the deputy governor to carry out the king’s wishes. Instead, I was going to Hartford to meet with Governor Leverett directly.”

Prudence’s defiance evaporated from her face, replaced once again by uncertainty.

“Finally, when we were in Springfield, I had Master Cooper post a letter with my seal to the royal governor of Virginia, telling him I’d be in Hartford but would come down to settle some matters in Jamestown when I finished. Do you know who the postmaster is in Springfield?” James put away his dagger. “Francis Knapp, Captain Samuel Knapp’s brother.”

“I see,” she said. “And the road goes south from Springfield to Hartford, so we might really have been traveling that direction.”

“Exactly.”

“What if they sent men in both directions to look for us?” she asked.

Cooper grunted at this as he remounted his horse.

“How many men do you think these traitors have?” James asked. “Come on. We’d better hope we reach Winton first.”

“Not likely,” Cooper grumbled. “We’re on the slow road, remember?”

“It all depends on how quickly Burrows sells us out,” James said. “Exactly how shifty is this fellow, anyway?”

“He’d sell his mother to the devil himself for the right price. Believe me, they know. They’ll be after us.”

They picked up the pace, but it was slow travel along the snowy, rutted road.

“James,” Prudence said a few minutes later.

He turned and looked at her.

She licked her lips. “I’m sorry, really. But you must understand. It’s our charter, our liberties. You must understand its importance.”

“Is it more important than your daughter?”

She didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“You should have trusted me.”

“Will you still help me find her?”

This, he didn’t answer.