Free Midnight by Beverly Jenkins Page A

Looking like an Iroquois in winter, he made his way through the forest and silently covered the short distance across his fields to the house. Inside, he stood by the fire and warmed himself. Although the creek had been running with the first melting of spring, the frigid temperature was invigorating; not only did it erase the sluggish remnants of sleep, it left his thinking sharp and clear. The early morning ritual was one of the many ways he’d been changed by living inside the Iroquois Confederation. At first, their way of life had seemed strange to a young man whose entire world had consisted of his father’s farm and the surrounding environs, but the longer he lived with them, the more he saw the world through their eyes, and the more he came to appreciate their ways and beliefs.
    Living the smuggler’s life had changed him as well; hardening him, making him more cynical and more apt not to care about the consequences of his actions. He’d enjoyed the danger, the meetings in back rooms, the working of a deal. He’d made friends and enemies, and enjoyed women in port cities all over the world, and now? Coming back to live in polite society had him thinking about what he wanted to do with the remainder of his life. The money he had stashed away in banks in Philadelphia, London, and Montreal made working for a living unnecessary, yet he was not the type to sit idly by until the time came to be buried next to his parents. He needed purpose; always had. It was something he’d put his mind to once the quest to avenge his father was laid to rest, but not until then.
    Warmer now, Nicholas dressed and sat down to a simple meal of bark tea, strips of dried pemmican, and a skillet of eggs. He thought about the reception he and Blythe had planned. Her offer to compile a list of potential wives wasn’t something he’d dismissed out of hand, but he doubted anything would come of it. He supposed he owed it to his father to do what he could to ensure the Grey name survived, so he spent a few moments imagining himself spending the rest of his life as a farmer and married to a boring woman, and he frowned. If he did decide to marry he’d be more inclined to marry someone like Faith Kingston, whose wit and fire would at least keep him awake. With that in mind, he wondered if her father would forbid her to help with the reception. He hoped not because the more he was around her, the more she intrigued him, in spite of the fact that she wasn’t the woman for him. He was supposed to meet her today to go over the food selections. Seeing her again was something he was looking forward to. A knock at his door caught his attention.
    When he opened it, he found Prince Hall standing on the threshold. “Morning, Nicholas. Did you forget that we are drilling today?”
    He lied, “No, but where are the others?”
    “They’ll be arriving shortly.
    Nick invited him in. His meeting with the beguiling Faith Kingston would have to wait.
    Just as he was about to close the door, a young man driving a wagon pulled up and called out to Nicholas. “You Nick Grey?”
    “Yes.”
    “Got a letter for you.”
    A curious Nick walked out and took the letter. He give the driver a few coins for his trouble and as the man departed, Nick opened the black ribbon holding the missive closed. What he read inside made him smile.
    A fter informing her father that she was going to visit Blythe, but would be back in time to prepare the late afternoon meal, Faith hurried outside to their small stable to hook their old mare, Susie, to the front of the flatbed wagon. Once everything was in order, she drove away.
    The sun was shining brightly out of a blue sky as she traveled down the slushy Concord Road. Although the temperature was still cold enough to need her heavy cape, the breeze held the warm promise of spring. The month of April was only two weeks away, and once spring arrived in earnest everyone could shake off the isolation forced on them since mid November.