The Blacksmith's Daughter: A Mystery of the American Revolution by Suzanne Adair Read Free Book Online

nodded.   " Uncle Joshua."
    He grinned.   "Well, what a surprise.   Here's a hug.   Watch the grime."   He
brushed at his apron again.   "Blacksmithing's dirty work."   They embraced and laughed, and Joshua held her a long time.   It felt the closest she'd ever felt to
hugging a father.   She didn't want to
let go.
    Her voice sounded muffled against
his shoulder.   "You're going to be
a great-uncle come Yule."
    "Congratulations.   Hmm, great-uncle.   That takes some getting used to."   He considered.   "Do
you suppose your father knows about you and the baby?"
    "Yes."
    He set her out from him.   "You sound certain of that.   Alas, we've no way of communicating with
him."   His expression clamped with
worry.   "Prisoner of the Lower Creek.   God's teeth."
    She glanced around and whispered,
"Can you keep a secret?"   His
eyebrows lifted, and he nodded.   "My parents are in South Carolina with the Cherokee."
    "Jove's arse — how did they —
you —"
    "Uncle David hid in my
henhouse yesterday."
    "The three of them escaped the
Lower Creek?"   Joshua gaped.
    "I got the impression the
Lower Creek helped them escape the redcoats.   Uncle David couldn't stay to explain.   He was on the run.   Do you
know where my parents went among the Cherokee?"
    "No.   I'm not familiar with the Cherokee."
    "But there's a Creek village
near here."
    "A few miles to the
southwest.   It's where Toókóhee Nókúse —
Mathias's father — and my mother lived."
    "So his relatives might live
there.   Take me there."
    "Today?"   Joshua studied the angle of the sun.   "Very well.   We've a good five hours daylight left.   But the Creek won't tell you anything."
    "I'm Mathias's daughter.   You're his brother.   Don't you think the two of us can persuade
someone to talk with us?"
    Practicality stamped his face.   "Betsy, with this war, it comforts me
greatly to know that my one living brother is alive and not captive.   He and Sophie have a damned good reason to
stay hidden, and I respect that."
    Her blood tingled with frustration,
impatience.   "I want to know my
blood father before my baby is born, and I want him to see this
grandchild.   Walk in my shoes, Uncle.   Think what it would be like to wake up one
morning and have a father when all your life you've never had one.   Would you wait for a war to wind down before
you sought him out?   I won't let two
armies of pig-headed men come between me and my own blood."
    The corners of Joshua's eyes
creased in a smile.   "I don't
suppose you would, standing there, looking so obstinate, just like your
mother.   All right, I'll introduce you
to the village's Beloved Woman.   Her
family adopted my mother.   But don't say
I didn't warn you if she won't tell you what you want to know."
    ***
    Cool and moist after the swelter of
afternoon sun, the forest embraced them.   Ahead on the Indian trail, Joshua swiveled in his saddle.   "Are you a good rider?   If we pick up the pace, we'll be home in
time for supper."
    Betsy signaled her agreement and
sent Lady May cantering after him.   Verdant foliaged branches of oak, maple, hickory, and dogwood whizzed
past, and the earth beneath their horses' hooves mingled with the smells of
sandy soil and horse sweat.   Their
passage silenced the sizzle of cicadas, but undaunted mockingbirds, redheaded
woodpeckers, blue jays, and cardinals cavorted in the yellow-green air around
them.
    After a few minutes, Betsy called
ahead.   "Joshua, where is your
Uncle Jacques?"
    "He took off after Will with
Sophie, David, and Mathias.   The
official word was that the redcoats executed him in Havana for resisting
arrest."
    She recoiled.   "From what little I know of Major Hunt
—"
    "I don't think Hunt executed him."   The sting in his
voice made his meaning clear.   No wonder
Fairfax had found the thought of Sophie as Jacques le Coeuvre's mistress
amusing.   "Alton is well rid of
Fairfax.   You cannot spend a minute in
his company without