Free Where the Dead Talk by Ken Davis Page A

sorry."
    "Why aren’t you sleeping?"
    "I was," she said. "Why aren’t you?"
    He sat back in his chair and took off his glasses, put the quill into the ink well.
    "These times," he said, indicating the night outside the windows, "are worrisome, and won’t go the way of those that don’t rise to them. I’m sending out correspondence that I pray will bolster our cause."
    "Jonathon says that liberty is their cause."
    He lowered his chin and gave her a weary look.
    "Cheap talk, nothing more," he said, "laid out by those who intend to steal away that which they already possess in abundance. These are coarse men, darling; small of mind and brutish in nature. Likely you are unaware, but the Chase men themselves have quite a reputation in the village – the kind of reputation you wouldn’t want to have haunting you. They and all the others like them will, I’m afraid, pay a steep price for their talk. Talk is no substitute for character."
    "Character," she said.
    "Carolyn, I understand that the Chase boy seems like a fiery idealist to you – not much different than his father, truthfully – but idealism isn’t character, no matter how hard he may wish it to be. What we have and what the King has given us are unbreakable. We’re meant have these ties – they can’t be lost or stolen or broken. He has nothing to offer you – and the sooner you realize that, the happier you’ll both be."
    "At least he cares about something other than himself," she said. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion.
    "A young man wears passionate belief as a Parisian wears fashion – always changing, and it is always about himself."
    "You told them of the powder-store," she said.
    He put his focals back on his nose and regarded her over them.
    "Who said that?" he said.
    "Did you?"
    "Hardly. They never invited me to one of their parade exercises, nor did they volunteer the location to me."
    "But the officers who were here - "
    "I studied medicine with the Lieutenant-Colonel’s father, as I told you at the time. It was a social call – and, if you must know, an opportunity to introduce you to some worthy young suitors. Now if you’re asking me if I would have told them of a weapons cache, had I known – well, then we might have that conversation."
    "And the one who died because of it, Nathan Chase?"
    "Darling, there will be many who die because of this. Some rightly, but most not. As I said, the price will be grievously high for those who seek glory in rebellion. They may in the beginning think they can control the course of events through the force of their intentions – but the end is hidden, and fraught with peril."
    The clock ticked softly in the hallway. She asked him the question that wouldn’t let her sleep.
    "They wouldn’t really hang him, would they?"
    "Sedition and treason are serious offenses. They very well might hang all of them – if they even spare them long enough for the rope. They might bring them justice on the battlefield."
    "But not Jonathon," Carolyn said, refusing to believe her father's words.
    Dr. Bucknell sighed and went back to his letters. She went to the window. She stole a glance at her father, then turned back to the glass panes. She traced a line down the glass with her finger. Outside, the stars were bright and the moon had set. The town was still.
     

A Cursed Lot
     
    Elizabeth looked out the window and across the dark town common. The tavern lanterns shone. She let the curtain fall and turned to the door of her room, listening. The pounding from the study had stopped. Adonijah had been having one of his spells – and was now likely sprawled on the floorboards, asleep. His spells had mystified her when she’d first arrived from London. Locked away in his study, he would mumble, sometimes rant, knocking on the boards. Peering through the keyhole, she could watch as he stood in the corner of the room, rocking back and forth, tugging at his own hair. He often knocked his forehead