Free Acadia Song 04 - The Distant Beacon by Janette Oke, T Davis Bunn Page B

before. They held themselves in military fashion, with well-oiled arms at the ready as they circled and hemmed them in. But they were also a ragtag bunch, wearing homespun and stiff tricornered hats and patched trousers. Their officer was no different. Nicole recognized him only from the way he arranged his men with hand signals, then ordered their group sharply, “Hands where I can see them, gentlemen! And make no sudden moves if you care to observe another sunrise.”
    “We travel in peace,” Gordon told him, showing his empty gloved palms.
    “I’ll be the one deciding that.” The officer set his long-bore rifle across his saddle and demanded, “Now just who might you be, and what is your business here?”
    “I have papers in my pouch that will explain.”
    “Mind you draw them out slow and easy.”
    Gordon untied his pouch and took out the folded document. He announced loud enough for all the surrounding men to hear, “It bears the seal of your own Constitutional Congress.”
    A murmur ran through the American soldiers as their officer inspected the document. “Why, so it does,” he agreed. He read further on, then aimed his gaze at Nicole.
    “You are Miss Harrow?” “You are addressing the Viscountess Lady Harrow,” Gordon corrected.
    The officer appeared unimpressed. “We don’t hold much to royal titles in these parts.”
    “That is good to know,” remarked Nicole. “For neither do I.”
    The officer’s eyes glimmered. “We’ve had our fair share and more of high muckety-mucks come parading through here, putting on airs and waiting for us to offer the bended knee.”
    “I have met many such,” Nicole said. “And don’t cotton to such myself.” She felt Gordon’s quick look at her choice of terms.
    “One man, one vote, that’s our motto,” their captor continued. “And none stand higher than the rest.”
    “I am liking this fair land all the more for knowing this,” Nicole said.
    The officer tipped his hat. “My name is Ida Sessions, ma’am. We’re neighbors, in a manner of speaking. I own a parcel out Concord way.”
    “An honor and a pleasure, sir.”
    “Your father is this Charles Harrow fellow?”
    Nicole could see Gordon bristle at the familiarity, but he held his tongue.
    “My uncle,” Nicole replied.
    “We’ve word all the way out here of how he’s been helping widows and orphans.”
    One of his men spoke up. “Know a good lady who’s kept her land on account of his generous ways. Lost her husband and both her sons.”
    “I’m so sorry,” Nicole said quietly, touched by the story of a woman whom she had never met. “The tragedy of war is simply too great to bear.”
    At the officer’s signal, the men surrounding the group and blocking their way moved to either side of the road. “Beyond Millers Falls you’ll need to keep a sharp watch for a band of renegade Indians. There’s some as haven’t declared for either side and have taken the troubles as a good time to loot the unwary.”
    “How stands the war?” Gordon asked.
    The officer examined him carefully. “The lady is mentioned in this document, sir. But not yourself.”
    “Captain Gordon Goodwind, sir. Merchant navy. At your service.”
    “Are you holding to the British cause?” the officer wanted to know.
    “I have two brothers fighting with the Virginia regiments.” Ida Sessions wasn’t the least bit impressed by this. “I know more families than I can count who’ve been split by the terrors, sir.”
    “My own family,” Gordon said cautiously, glancing toward his men, “has known no such calamity.”
    The officer appeared satisfied with Gordon’s response. “Well,” he said, “all’s been quiet in these parts for five months and more.”
    “And elsewhere?”
    “The Carolinas were attacked with regiments brought in by sea. But we’re harrying them hard. We’ve a good man in command down south. Swamp Fox, he’s called. General Francis Marion. Formerly with your forces. Perhaps you