Black Eagle by Gen Bailey Read Free Book Online Page B

Perhaps to the nuns? ”
    â€œThat I could. But she presses me now, and there is damage she could do to me before I am able to make arrangements to send her overseas. She has threatened me.” He set down his pistol and spread his hands out over the desk. “Me.”
    It did not escape Thompson’s regard that Rathburn’s eyes burned momentarily with a fire of insanity. In reaction, Thompson, all three hundred pounds of him, quivered. Rathburn, however, was continuing. “She plans to take her maid east to Portsmouth, New Hampshire,” he said. “ ’Tis a place where our family has often summered. There are friends there, who will welcome her. I believe my niece hopes to find her maid other employment there. However, it is my intention that neither she nor her maid should arrive there . . . alive.”
    Thompson flinched. “The maid, too? ”
    â€œI am afraid so. It would appear that my ‘dear’ niece has shared her knowledge with her maid.”
    â€œTwo women . . . Not one, but two,” Thompson muttered. “I’ve never kilt a woman afore,” he repeated.
    â€œIf ye feel ye cannot to do the job . . . Of course ye do realize, that I am paying double for yer services.”
    Thompson hesitated. Under his breath, he muttered, “The way through New Hampshire is through woods that are deep in Indian country, the Abenaki.”
    â€œIndeed, it is so,” said Rathburn. “How fortunate. Many accidents could happen along the way.”
    Thompson pulled at his collar. “The Abenaki’s are not friendly to England. Could I not save ye the trouble and expense of a journey, and do the deed here? ”
    â€œI should say not! T’would be an outrage. Why, the townspeople might question my ability to provide protection, might even doubt my worthiness to guardianship, which of course would include the loss of her fortune, should their doubts prove true. No, indeed,” continued Rathburn, “an accident along the path north and east ’tis better.”
    Thompson, however, was not convinced, and he stalled further, saying, “What ye need is a scout, and I’s no scout.”
    â€œYe may have leave to hire one, though I doubt ye’ll need one, since the deed could be done once ye are outside of Albany.”
    â€œBut what if a chance to end it quickly does not prove itself in so timely a manner? ”
    â€œThen ye will need a map and a guide. An Indian scout would be best since any other might give witness against ye.” Pivoting the pistol in his hand, Rathburn pretended to check its sights. “Of course, if ye decide the task is beyond ye to perform, the assignment is not an obligation.”
    Rathburn’s statement was a veiled, unstated threat, and Thompson well understood it. He grimaced. Truth be told, Thompson might be many things, a bully, an executioner, an assassin. But his “business” was typically conducted with stealth, and always under the cover of darkness. In truth, no threat to himself had ever presented itself.
    This last was a pointed detail. For there was one particular aspect to Thompson’s character that ruled his existence: He was an unprecedented coward.
    He glanced once at the pistol that Rathburn so ungraciously handled; he wiped his lips, setting his mind to the fact that his future recommendations would hereafter include two women. Then, said Thompson, “Do ye have that map here? ”
    â€œI do, indeed.”
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    â€œOh, look!” said Marisa, as she dragged Sarah toward a merchant who was selling one of the largest pumpkins Marisa had ever seen. “I think we should ask cook to make us a pumpkin pie for our trip.”
    Sarah smiled and shook her head. “And how are we to transport a pie? ”
    Marisa pulled a face. “’Tis a fair point you make, since we will be traveling with only the three horses. Perhaps cook could bake the pie before