Such men will continue killing . . . Coldstone had said.
God made me what I am, but I chose to fight for our rights . . .
God spoke to Job out of the whirlwind and said, Things are this way because I am the Lord. There seemed nothing else to say.
“Miss Fluckner knew you were working with us?”
“Her father’s butler wrote her,” said Coldstone. “She came to me Thursday night, with her maid, soon after I got your note. They told me the maid had just seen the man who was pursuing her, there, on the island, in the fort. She pointed him out to me, but he was already making his way to the dock. I think he must have learned somehow that the game was up—”
Sons of Liberty on Castle Island, Orion had whispered feverishly to her. Watching for me . . .
Thank you, Sam. “So you followed him—”
“I knew that if he had killed his mother,” said Coldstone, “the only place left for him to go, was back to this Gilead that you spoke of in your note to me. And he would lead us there.”
Pattie came in with coffee, but Coldstone shook his head. “I will not stay, Mrs. Adams,” he said, rising and taking up cloak and hat. “At the risk of sounding ungentlemanly, I fear you are still far from well, and will not further trespass. And, I must still visit Griffin’s Wharf, and see what damage was done.”
“None, I hear.” There was a note of slightly triumphant malice in Rebecca’s voice. “Not so much as a hatch cover broken. They were, I understand, quite well-mannered Indians.” His face a mask, the British officer bowed over her hand, and over Abigail’s in turn. “Nevertheless,” he said, “the Governor has sent a complaint to Parliament. I fear there will be hell to pay.”
Abigail said, “There always is.”