“I see you’re still thinking of what happened today,” Nick said as he entered the room. “What do you expect when you walk about the wharf dressed as you are?”
“A man has a right to dress how he wants and he should be safe.”
“That is the doctrine of all peasants,” Nick said with a sigh. He motioned to a servant to begin unpacking his many bags and trunks. “Tonight you may wear my cousin’s clothes and tomorrow we will see that you are dressed properly. Then you may travel to your father’s home without fear.”
As usual, Nick made it a command rather than a suggestion. He had been giving orders all his life and they had been obeyed.
After Nick left, Alex dismissed the servant who held one of Nick’s monogrammed bath towels ready, took the towel and wrapped it about the lower half of his body. It was dark outside now, but the lamplighter had lit the lamps and Alex could see the soldiers roaming about the streets. They were quartered with the citizens and came and went at their leisure. Not far away he heard raucous laughter and the sound of glass breaking.
These men were afraid of nothing. They had the protection of the King of England on their side. If someone fought them, as Alex had today, they had every right to hang him. They were English and the Americans were English, too—but the Americans were considered to be a savage, ignorant lot that had to be disciplined.
Turning away from the window in disgust, Alex glanced at the half-open trunk of Nick’s. There was a black shirt lying across the top.
What if someone gave them some of their own terror back? he thought. What if a man, dressed in black, came out of the night and let these arrogant soldiers know that they couldn’t hurt the Colonists without fear of punishment?
He rummaged in Nick’s trunk until he found a pair of black breeches.
“May I ask what you are doing?” Nick asked from the doorway. “If it is jewels you are looking for, I can assure you they are safely hidden.”
“Be quiet, Nick, and help me find a black handkerchief.”
Nick walked across the room and put his hand on Alex’s arm. “I want to know what you are doing.”
“I just thought that I might give those Englishmen something to worry about. A black ghost coming out of the night perhaps.”
“Ah, yes, I am beginning to see.” Nick’s eyes began to shine. This was an idea that appealed to his Russian blood. He opened a second trunk. “Did I ever tell you about my cousin who rode his horse down the steps of our country house? The horse broke both its front legs of course, but it was a magnificent moment.”
Alex looked up from the shirt he was holding. “What happened to your cousin?”
“He died. All the good ones die young. Another time he was drunk and decided to ride his horse out of a second story window. Both he and the horse died. He was a good man.”
Alex kept his comments about Nick’s cousin to himself as he pulled on the tight black breeches. Nick was shorter and heavier than he was, but Alex’s legs were thick from years of fighting for balance on board ships so the breeches, made to be snug, were like skin on Alex. The shirt, cut full in the arms and gathered across the bodice, flowed above the breeches.
“And these,” Nick said, holding up tall, knee-high boots. “And here is a handkerchief.” He opened the door. “Bring me a black plume!” he bellowed down the hallway.
“You don’t have to spread the word to everyone,” Alex said as he pulled on the boots.
Nick shrugged. “There is no one here but my cousin and his wife.”
“And a hundred or so servants.”
“What do they matter?” He looked up from the trunk to a servant who held out a large, black-dyed ostrich plume.
“The countess sends her regards,” the servant said before leaving the room.
Within minutes Nick had Alex dressed in black. He cut holes in the handkerchief and tied it about the lower half of his friend’s face, then set a large tricorn hat on his head. The plume curled about the brim, a few tendrils hanging over Alex’s forehead.
“Yes,” Nick said, standing back and admiring his work. “Now, what do you plan? To ride about the streets and frighten the men and kiss the girls?”
“Something of the sort.” Now that he was dressed, Alex wasn’t sure what he’d originally planned.
“There is a horse in the stables, a beautiful black. It’s in the end stall. When you return, we will drink to…the Raider. Yes, we will drink to the Raider. Now go and have your fun and return soon. I am hungry.”
Alex smiled and then followed Nick’s directions down to the stables. Under the cover of darkness, he faded into nothing in the black clothing, and as he moved about, he began to have a sense of purpose. He thought of the soldiers pulling the girl into the alley and he thought of Josiah losing his ship. Josiah had taught the three Montgomery boys to tie their first knots.
The horse Nick recommended was an angry devil that had no desire for any man to ride it. Alex pulled it around, then mounted, fought for—and won—control of the beast. They shot out of the stables and headed toward the streets.
Alex moved the horse quietly along the outskirts of the main street and watched for a place where he might be useful. It didn’t take him long to find it. Outside a tavern, a pretty young woman, her arms full of small kegs of beer, was being surrounded by seven drunken soldiers.
“Give us a kiss,” one man said. “Just one little kiss.”
Alex didn’t waste time before spurring his mount from the shadows and into the group. The horse, its feet flying, was nervous enough to make the men stop and take notice, but the man clad in black on top, his head silhouetted by the lamplight made them step back in fear.
Alex hadn’t considered how he would disguise his voice, but when he spoke, he spoke with the accent of an upperclass Englishman, not with the flat voweled English that had developed in America over the last hundred years.
“Try someone your own size,” Alex said and drew his sword as he advanced on two of the men who were stepping backward, away from the apparition and the angry black horse.
Deftly, Alex removed the buttons off the uniform of first one man, then the other. The buttons clattered on the cobblestone street and the horse crushed one under its iron-clad hoof.
Alex backed the horse away, already moving into the shadows. He knew that he had surprise on his side and that as soon as these men recovered their senses, they’d attack or call for help.
He swung his sword through the air with a loud whoosh and brought it to rest under the chin of another soldier. “Think before you harass an American again or the Raider may find you.” He pulled his sword tip down the man’s uniform, carefully laying it open to his skin, but not so much as scratching the man.
With that, Alex laughed, a laugh of pure pleasure, a feeling of triumph surging through him that he had the upper hand with these overbearing louts who traveled only in packs. Still smiling beneath his mask, he turned his horse and headed down the street at a breakneck pace.
But no matter how fast he was going, he couldn’t outrun the bullet that was fired at his back. He felt something hot tearing through his shoulder. His head flew backward and the horse reared, but he managed to hang on.
He turned back to the woman and soldiers still standing there, one of the men holding a smoking pistol in his hand. “You’ll never catch the Raider,” he said with triumph in his voice. “He’ll haunt you day and night. You’ll never be free of him.”
He was wise enough not to press his luck any longer but turned the horse and tore down the street. Shutters on the houses were beginning to open and people were looking out just in time to see a man in black fly past their windows. Behind him, Alex could hear a woman, probably the barmaid he’d rescued, shouting something, but he was too concerned about his bleeding shoulder to hear what she was saying.
He rode the horse to the edge of town and knew that he had to get rid of the animal. As he was, he was too conspicuous atop the black devil. Near the docks, in the shelte
r of the confusion of the ships and ropes, he dismounted, slapped the horse on the rump and watched it head back toward its stables.
Alex couldn’t see his shoulder, but he could feel that he was losing a great deal of blood and he knew that he was losing strength rapidly. The nearest point of safety was Nick’s ship, docked not far away and guarded by Nick’s crew.
Weaving between the ships and keeping himself hidden, he listened to the increasing pitch of the people in the streets. It seemed that the entire town was coming out of their houses and joining in the search. When he reached Nick’s lugger, he prayed that the Russian crew would allow him on board. The Russians could be as fierce as they were loving.
But Alex need not have feared, for one of the crewmen saw him and swung down to the dock to help him aboard. Maybe they were used to their master’s friends arriving in the middle of the night wearing blood soaked shirts. Alex didn’t remember much after the sailors helped him aboard the ship and half carried him into the hold.
* * *
Alex opened his eyes to see the familiar swing of a lamp as it swayed to the rhythm of the sea.
“Well, it looks like you may live after all.”
Alex moved his head just a bit to see Nick sitting beside him, his coat off, his shirt dirty with blood on the front. “What time is it?” Alex asked as he started to sit up but was dizzy with the effort so he lay back down.
“It’s almost dawn,” Nick said, getting up to move to a basin of water and wash his hands. “You almost died last night. It took a while to get the bullet out.”
Alex closed his eyes for a moment and thought about his foolish stunt of being the Raider. “I hope you don’t mind my imposing on your hospitality a while longer, but I think it will be a day or so before I can travel to Warbrooke.”
Nick dried his hands on a towel. “I don’t think either of us had any idea of the consequences of what you did last night. It seems that this town was looking for a hero and you’ve been elected. You can’t step onto the street without hearing about the exploits of the Raider. It seems that he’s responsible for every deed that’s been perpetrated against the English in the last ten years.”
Alex gave a groan of disgust.
“That’s the least of it. The English have sent every soldier at their disposal to look for you. There are already posters out for your arrest. You are to be shot on sight. They’ve been here twice this morning and demanded to search my ship.”
“I’ll go then,” Alex said, moving to sit up, but he was very weak from the loss of blood and his shoulder hurt abominably.
“I’ve kept them away by threatening them with war with my country. Alex, if you stepped onto that gangplank, you’d be shot within minutes. They are looking for someone tall and slim, with black hair.” Nick’s eyes burned into Alex’s. “And they know you’re wounded.”
“I see,” Alex said, still sitting on the edge of the bed, and he did see. He knew that he was facing the end of his life, but he could not stay here and risk getting his friend involved. He tried to stand, leaning heavily on the chair in front of him.
“I have a plan,” Nick said. “I have no wish to be pursued by the English navy, so I’d like to allow them to search.”
“Yes, of course. At least that way I won’t have to walk down the gangplank. I was dreading that.” Alex tried to smile.
Nicholas ignored his attempt at levity. “I have sent for some clothes of my cousin. He is a fat man and a gaudy dresser.”
Alex raised an eyebrow at that. To his taste, Nick’s clothes put even peacocks to shame, so what must this cousin’s be like?
Nick continued. “I think that if we pad you to fill the clothes, fortify you with a little whiskey, put a powdered wig on over that mass of black hair, you’ll pass the soldiers’ inspection.”
“Why don’t I put on the disguise and just walk off the ship?”
“And then do what? You will need help and whoever gives it to you will be putting his life in danger. And how many of your poor Americans could resist the five-hundred-pounds reward that is being offered for your head? No, you will stay here on my ship with me and we will sail for this town of yours. Will there be someone there to take care of you?”
Alex leaned back against the wall, feeling even weaker than when he woke. He thought of the town of Warbrooke, the town his grandfather had settled and most of which his father now owned. There were people there who were his friends, people he’d known all his life—and he was a product of those people. If he was brave, then they were twice as brave. No English soldiers were going to frighten the town of Warbrooke.
“Yes, there are people there who will help me,” Alex said at last.
“Then let’s get you dressed.” Nick threw open the cabin door and called for a servant to bring the clothes he needed.
* * *
“Alex,” Nick said gently. “We’re here.” He looked at his friend with sympathy. For the last week Alex had been running a high fever and now he looked as if he’d been on a week long drunk: his eyes were sunken, his skin dry and red, his muscles weak and rubbery.
“Alex, we’re going to have to dress you in my cousin’s clothes again. The soldiers are still searching for the Raider and I’m afraid they’ve come this far north. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Alex mumbled. “They’ll take care of me in Warbrooke. You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right,” Nick said. “I’m afraid that they may believe what they see.” He was referring to the ridiculous sight Alex made in his fat padding and brocade coat and powdered wig. He certainly didn’t look like the handsome young man come home to save a town from a dastardly brother-in-law.
“You’ll see,” Alex slurred, since Nick had been giving him brandy to help him face the coming exertion. “They know me. They’ll laugh when they see me like this. They’ll know that something has happened. They’ll take care of me until this damned shoulder heals. I just pray they don’t give me away in front of the soldiers. You’ll see, they’ll know that no Montgomery ever dressed like a peacock. They’ll know there’s a reason for this.”
“Yes, Alexander,” Nicholas said soothingly. “I hope you are right.”
“I am. You’ll see. I know these people.”
Chapter Two
I DON’T know why I have to be there to meet him,” Jessica Taggert said for the thousandth time to her sister, Eleanor. “Alexander was never anything to me—nothing good, that is.”
Eleanor tightened her sister’s corset strings. Eleanor, by herself, was considered a pretty woman, but when Jessica was present, she was overshadowed—as was every other woman in town. “You have to go because the Montgomery family has been very good to us. Get down from there, Sally!” she said to her four-year-old sister.
The Taggert house was little more than a shack, small and only as clean as two women with full-time employment and the responsibility of taking care of seven young brothers and sisters could make it. The house was on the edge of town, set back in a tiny cove, with no close neighbors; not because the family chose to be so isolated, but because eighteen years ago when the fifth loud, dirty Taggert had entered the world and there didn’t seem to be an end to their numbers in sight, people stopped building near them.
“Nathaniel!” Jessica shouted to her nine-year-old brother who was dangling three, fat, angry spiders on a string in front of his little sister’s face. “If I have to come over there you’ll be sorry.”
“At least you wouldn’t have to see Alexander,” Nathaniel taunted before wisely scurrying from the house just after he tossed the spiders onto his sister.
“Hold still, Jess,” Eleanor said. “How do you expect me to lace you into this dress if you’re wiggling about?”
“I don’t particularly want you to lace me into it. I really don’t see why I have to go. We don’t need charity from the likes of Alexander Montgomery.”
Eleanor gave a heartfelt sigh. “You haven’t seen him since you were both children. Maybe he
’s changed.”
“Hah!” Jess said, moving away from her sister and lifting the infant, Samuel, off the floor where he was trying to eat some unidentifiable substance. She saw he had one of Nathaniel’s spiders in his fat, dirty little hand. “No one as bad as Alexander changes. He was a pompous know-it-all ten years ago and I’m sure he hasn’t changed. If Marianna was going to get one of her brothers to come and help her get away from that man she was fool enough to marry, why couldn’t she have asked one of the older boys? One of the good Montgomerys?”
“I think she wrote each of them and Alex received his letter first. Sit still while I get some of the tangles out of your hair.” Eleanor took her sister’s hair in her hands and couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Other women spent many hours trying to do what they could with their hair to make it look good, while Jessica exposed hers to sun, salt air, sea water and her own sweat—and it was more beautiful than anyone else’s. It was a thick, soft blonde that shone in the sunlight.
“Oh, Jess, if you just tried, you could get any man—”
Her sister cut her off. “Please don’t start on me again. Why don’t you get a husband? A rich one who’ll support us and all the kids?”
“From this town?” Eleanor sniffed. “From a town that’s afraid of one man? From a town that lets a man like Pitman run it?”
Jessica stood and pulled her hair back from her face. There were few women pretty enough to be able to scrape their hair back that tightly and still be beautiful, but Jessica succeeded. “I don’t want one of those cowards any more than you do.” She put baby Samuel down on the floor again. “But at least I’m not fool enough to think that one man, especially somebody like Alexander, is going to save us. I think all of you remember the Montgomerys as a group, not as individuals. I couldn’t agree more that there was never a more magnificent group of men than Sayer and his two oldest sons and I cried as hard as any of you when the boys went off to sea—but I didn’t cry when Alexander left.”