Guns of Liberty (20 page)

“Daniel, is it?” he mocked. “Did you hear, Tolbert? The devotion in her voice.”

“I heard.” A voice came from behind her which brought her to a halt after a single step backward.

“What do you want?” she asked, recognizing Meeks from his visit to the parsonage in Springtown.

“I want McQueen. And you’ll help me get him, my little darling.”

Kate spun on her heels. Too late. Black Tolbert blocked her escape, his keen eyes hungrily ranging her figure, lingering on her bosom and the graceful lines of her neck.

“Take her into the inn. If she tries to escape,” Meeks said, in his most gentlemanly tone, “kill her.”

B
LACK TOLBERT WAS THIRSTY
, and he didn’t like the way Josiah Meeks was rationing the Hound and Hare’s supply of liquor. He had been pacing the tavern for the better part of the morning. By noon, Meeks had tired of Tolbert’s edginess and ordered him back outside to check the area around the tavern again and work off a little steam. Tolbert grudgingly obeyed and headed for the front door. He noticed Loyal Bufkin watching him from a table near the bar.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped.

“The stars in the heavens, the birds in the trees, the fishes in the seas, He made them all,” Loyal said, a beatific gleam in his eyes. His fingers toyed with the bandage circling his skull.

“You’re crazy as a loon,” Tolbert muttered, and stepped outside.

Kate Bufkin, seated at the same table as her brother, rose and stepped behind him to examine his bandaged head. The coarse cloth was stained dark red where the blood had seeped from Loyal’s head wound. Will Chaney, on first entering the tavern the night before, had viciously clubbed poor Loyal senseless after he had refused to answer any of Chaney’s questions. Loyal looked up at his sister and patted her hand. “There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow, Kate. The major doesn’t believe it yet, but he will. They all will.”

Josiah Meeks was standing at the bar, a glass of Madeira in his hand. A permanent scowl had settled on his features ever since the discovery of Dees and Wiley. How could he have played this so wrong? What sort of man was Daniel, and what had he found so damn important that he’d forfeit his own father?

Meeks left the bar and stalked across the large, empty room. His boots rapped solemnly upon the hardwood floor. His long, bony arms flopped at his side as he approached Kate, who remained at her brother’s side.

This rebel wench is a beauty, but no woman is worth sacrificing a life for,
Meeks thought in his characteristically unromantic way. Women were a diversion, pleasant enough for nights of peace, but wholly in the way in time of war.

“I have given you ample time to reflect on the nature of truth,” Meeks told her. His voice, though threatening, remained gentle, coaxing, filled with false affection, which made his actions all the more offensive. “Think, now. Where is Daniel McQueen?”

He made a show of inspecting Loyal’s bandaged brow. “Fortunately your brother has a hard head. Then again, Will Chaney wasn’t really trying.” Meeks indicated the other would-be assassin asleep on another table. Chaney’s rifle lay alongside him within easy reach in case of trouble. Chaney stirred for a brief moment, smacked his lips, raised his head to look around, and then settled back onto the feather pillow he had taken from Loyal’s bed.

“When Chaney wakens he’s apt to be in a nasty mood,” Meeks warned. “He has ways of making a man talk. But you don’t have to suffer. Tell me what I wish to know of Daniel McQueen and I’ll send Chaney back out to the hogs.”

“You see Daniel McQueen as if through a glass darkly,” Loyal said, gravely serious.

“I bloody well see him not at all.” Meeks slapped Loyal across the face. “And neither will you. Ever again.”

“No. Leave him alone. He’s telling you the truth,” Kate blurted. She placed herself in harm’s way, between her brother and the Englishman.

Meeks relented and backed away. He smiled, and his single eye held all the warmth of early frost.

“I believe you,” Meeks finally said. “There, you see, my dear. I am not the black-hearted villain you surmised. I can be charitable even to my enemies.” He rubbed his hands together, and the leathery sound reminded Kate of bat wings brushing one another. He scratched the tip of his hooked nose, then fished a long-stemmed clay pipe from inside his waistcoat. “Especially charitable when they serve such an elegant Madeira.” He started back to where he’d left his wineglass, sliding his right hand along the top of the bar as he went.

“Danny won’t come here!” Kate said, defiant to the end. “Why should he? And what has he to do with the likes of you?”

“More than you can imagine, my dear.” Meeks lifted the Madeira to his lips and took a sip before continuing. “Danny and I soldiered together. Aye, that’s it. Brothers at arms.” Meeks finished the Madeira and wiped his mouth on a silk kerchief he kept tucked in his sleeve. How reed thin and hungry the brooding major looked at first glance. Yet the longer Kate was around Josiah Meeks the more she sensed the strength in him. Like a rod of cold iron there seemed no give in the man. She feared for Daniel’s safety. The major obviously intended nothing but harm for him.

“How long do you intend to stay here?” Kate left her brother’s side and, crossing behind the bar, brought out the stoneware bottle of wine. She refilled Meeks’s glass. She could see no point in confrontation when an extra glass of wine might bring her everything she wanted to know.

Meeks knew when he was being plied with drink, and her tactic amused him. He accepted the refill and lit his clay pipe, blowing gray-blue clouds of aromatic tobacco smoke toward the rafters.

“I shall stay as long as it suits me,” he answered.

“And if other guests arrive?”

“They won’t. We have blocked your drive. Anyone who stops will be promptly sent on their way. Unless, of course, it’s Daniel McQueen.” Meeks’s eyes grew hard. “I shall welcome him.”

Across the Trenton Road opposite the Hound and Hare Inn, Daniel aimed one of his Quakers at Black Tolbert and enjoyed the fantasy of blowing the brigand’s head off. It wasn’t a bad way for Daniel to pass the time of day as he lay in the shadow of a baneberry patch and peered between a break in the overgrown stone wall at Tolbert.

Tolbert stood before the barrel of hard cider set atop the courtyard wall. A tankard in his hand, Tolbert helped himself to the inn’s supply of hard cider. All the while he filled the pewter tankard, the Tory renegade kept a fearful eye on the front door lest Josiah Meeks appear and catch him in the act.

Daniel lowered his pistol and placed it on the ground alongside him. He cursed Major Josiah Meeks beneath his breath. Tolbert wouldn’t be here alone. No doubt the major was inside, and Daniel knew no good would come of the Englishman’s presence.

Tolbert strolled across the courtyard and stood beneath the wrought-iron arch he had forged. A stone’s throw from the road and Daniel’s place of concealment, Black Tolbert leaned against the gate and tilted the tankard to his mouth. As he poured the bitter cider down his gullet, his nut brown waistcoat parted to reveal a pistol and a tomahawk thrust through his wide leather belt.

“Enjoy your drink, you bastard,” Daniel muttered.

He licked his lips and had to rub his belly when his stomach began to growl. He winced and shifted position. The ground had made for a hard bed the night before when an hour outside of Philadelphia Daniel had pitched camp in an apple orchard. Exhausted, he’d slept through the morning, allowing the black mare to rest before riding the last few miles to the inn. Caution had caused him to hold back and approach the Hound and Hare by the most discreet course. The woods across the Trenton Road offered the most concealment. After picketing the mare in a draw well back in the trees, Daniel had walked and crawled to the fence. Now, with Black Tolbert so close at hand and the idea of Kate in danger, it took all of the Highlander’s self-control to keep from charging the inn, guns blazing.

What had Meeks in mind now? Daniel had more questions than answers. First things first: He had to find out how many men were with Tolbert. That meant an inspection of the barn to count the horses. As for the inn itself—well, he’d be of no use to Kate dead, so a daylight assault was out of the question.

The man behind the fence would have to be patient and bide his time until nightfall. There’d be a stalking moon tonight, and Daniel McQueen intended to put it to use.

B
LACK TOLBERT RETURNED BY
the side door from a brief sojourn to the barn to check on the horses. He had relinquished the watch to Chaney and now moved quickly past the bar with its array of libations. He wasn’t interested in liquor anymore. Two tankards of hard cider sloshed in his belly. He had another appetite now; he headed straight for the winter kitchen, where Kate Bufkin was preparing food for her unwanted guests. Meeks would not allow her to use the summer kitchen just outside the back door of the inn, for he feared she might try to run away—a foolish fear, as far as Kate was concerned. She would never leave her brother behind. Her back was to Tolbert when he entered the kitchen. She was leaning over a table and offered a tempting sight as she prepared the meal. Smooth and arrogant and brittlely handsome, Black Tolbert was just drunk enough not to care if he got into trouble with Meeks. Such a comely wench was worth any risk. He remembered how he felt the first time he’d set eyes on her, during the pretended robbery by the covered bridge. He’d wanted her then. And by God, he’d have her now.

Tolbert shut the door as he advanced on the woman, quietly and confidently past barrels of corn meal, salt, and molasses, past salt pork and dried peas and dried gourds neatly arranged upon a shelf close by. Close enough to smell her, Tolbert grinned and in a silken voice broke the silence. “Well, now, my sweet. Trundle your skirt up and stay as you are. And we’ll both have sport aplenty before I’m through.” He reached for her hips.

Kate straightened up at the sound of his voice. She slowly turned from the salt pork she had been slicing. The young woman brandished a butcher knife whose curved steel blade was over a foot long and gleamed wickedly.

“Come ahead, prince of pigs,” she replied. “I’ve carved this bacon, why not yours?”

“So the cat bares her claws,” Tolbert said. He dropped his hand to the gun in his belt. “I can play your game. You’ll spread yourself on that table or take a pistol ball in your pretty head.”

“Enough,” Meeks said from behind him. The kitchen door banged open and the officer stepped to one side, keeping the doorway clear. “Keep watch upstairs. Call out if you see the Irishman.”

“Dammit, Meeks,” Tolbert snarled.

“Go on. And keep your eyes open. I sent Chaney out to the courtyard. You stay in the window. If anyone comes along the road—”

“Meeks! Soldiers coming. It’s O’Flynn and his men,” Chaney called from the front door. His stubbled cheeks were flush from excitement; the front of his shirt was splattered with freshly spilled cider and clung to his round belly. “They’re riding like the devil’s on their tails. And they ain’t alone. Woodbine’s with them.”

“Woodbine! Damn. There must be trouble.” Meeks glanced at Tolbert. “Get your rifle and head to the barn. Saddle the horses.”

“You’re trapped,” Kate taunted. “Nathaniel Woodbine and his militia will ride you down no matter where you go.” She placed her fists on her hips and glowered at the Englishman. “Better you lay your guns here on the table and surrender while you have the chance.”

Meeks reached out, caught her by the arm, and dragged her from the kitchen, forcing her to walk alongside him as he crossed the inn to the front door. “Come along and watch me surrender.” He pulled her outside and propelled her halfway across the courtyard.

Daniel McQueen had begun to work his way along the fence in an effort to place himself out of view of the inn before he crossed the Trenton Road and headed for the barn. The sudden appearances of Josiah Meeks and Kate in the courtyard halted him in his tracks. He darted down and remained in view of the Hound and Hare. He recognized the rumble of approaching horses. Moments later he caught sight of Woodbine and his militia. Daniel’s heart soared and he forgave Nathaniel Woodbine all the terrible sins he had attributed to the merchant.

Quakers in hand, he readied himself to charge the inn at the first sound of gunfire. His heart throbbed in his chest. With the prospect of rescue, the danger for Kate only heightened. Daniel could only hope Woodbine’s men held their fire. But then, how would Woodbine even know these were British agents? Daniel had to warn them, but in some way that wouldn’t risk Kate’s life.

Daniel was struggling to formulate a plan when Woodbine and his men dismounted at the arch. Woodbine left his men, hurried through the gate, and clasped Josiah Meeks’s outstretched hand as if he knew the Englishman—as if they were accomplices! Meeks and Woodbine spoke for a moment, then Woodbine turned to Kate and said something. She raised a hand to slap him, but Chaney stepped up from behind and caught her arm. He pulled her back into the inn. Woodbine and Meeks trailed along behind.

Daniel crouched back under cover. He stared at the brace of pistols in his hands, his mind reeling with the shock of what he had seen.
Not that I ever trusted Woodbine … Damn! I never felt so helpless in my life. What the devil is going on? Meeks is a sly fox. I’ll have to stay a step ahead. But how?

Maybe there was a way. Maybe one desperate chance. If one of the men in the inn made a mistake.

Nathaniel Woodbine gulped his ale and continued his story while Meeks stood with one arm resting on the mantelpiece and listened. He wasn’t the only one, however, for Kate Bufkin sat nearby in a state of utter shock. The truth of Woodbine’s treachery had left her speechless, and she had begun to despair, whereas before she had been able to resist the major’s mental tortures. He had told her of Daniel McQueen, and how he had involved the blacksmith in a scheme to kill the new commander-in-chief of the Continental Army as soon as the Congress announced the appointment. He had also described his hold over Daniel, dangling the prospect of his father’s execution like a man dancing from a gallows rope. Oh, but Meeks had been so very pleased with himself. He had even bragged of his part in the murder of Henk Schraner. It amused the major to no end that Daniel had been blamed for the crime.