Midnight by Beverly Jenkins Page A

doomed, Nick.”
    Nick didn’t dispute the fact. “Maybe you’ll be doomed sometime in the future, too, Dominic.”
    Dom shook his head. “I’m too wily for that.”
    They shared the smiles of men who’d come to know each other well, then began a discussion of the business Nick hoped they could help him with. “I need muskets.”
    “How many?”
    “As many as you can provide.”
    “When?”
    “Soon.”
    Dom replied, “There’re rumors that once the war starts the colonial government will be issuing letters of marque, and I’d love to be able to legally poke the British in the eyes as often as possible. As for the muskets, I’m certain it won’t take long to get you what you need.”
    Nick was pleased with that answer. He happened to look towards the window. A woman passed by. The brisk wind blew her hood back from her face. She quickly raised it back over her head again but not quick enough to keep her familiar face from widening his eyes. He immediately jumped to his feet. “I have to go. Right now.”
    Dominic and Gaspar looked confused.
    He hastily put on his coat. “Get me those guns.”
    While Dom and Gaspar stared, Nick all but ran from the tavern.
    Once outside, he sprinted down the alley that led to the street that the tavern window had looked out on and glanced wildly back and forth, but he didn’t see her. Had he imagined her? he asked himself. He began walking quickly in the direction he’d seen her heading in hopes of catching another sight but saw no woman in a gray cape. Suddenly, a few feet up ahead, he spotted her crossing the street. He grinned and followed, but kept a safe distance. What are you up to tonight , Faith Kingston? Fetching eggs again , no doubt.
    Faith kept her steps quick and measured. At that time of night the streets of Boston could prove dangerous for a woman alone, from both soldiers and brigands, and she wanted no dealings with either. Her destination was the home of rebel leader John Hancock. She knew where he lived, as did every other citizen in the area. It was her hope that British spies would not be watching his home at this hour but there was no guarantee. She kept casting discreet glances behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed but even though she saw no one, there was no guarantee she wasn’t. With her hood up, she doubted she’d draw attention, and if she did, passersby would see nothing more than a woman hurrying home. As she turned the corner onto the street where Hancock lived she casually looked around for soldiers. Seeing none she kept up her pace. However, as she approached his home, she saw three uniformed men posted out in front of the entrance. Gathering her nerve, she approached them. “I’m here to deliver bread to Mr. Hancock. May I do so?”
    She reached into the sack and withdrew one of the two loaves inside to show them. It was still warm and the fresh-baked scent drifted fragrantly in the wind.
    “A bit late for deliveries, miss.”
    “True, but the regular delivery woman took ill and won’t be able to come in the morning. I told my employer I’d make sure Hancock got these on my way home.”
    “He’s not in,” one of them pointed out.
    Another soldier cracked. “He’s over in Concord getting his neck measured for a noose.”
    They laughed. Hancock not being home was to her advantage but by the light of the fire they had burning in a barrel to keep warm, she could see them eyeing her with suspicion. She added emotion to her performance. “Please, I’ll have nothing but trouble tomorrow if it isn’t left tonight. In fact, you may have one of the loaves if you just let allow me to leave the other.”
    And with that she was certain she had them. Everyone knew how poorly paid and underfed the soldiers were. In fact, many had taken side jobs at taverns and other businesses just to make ends meet. It was her hope that these three were hungry enough to take the offering and let her go on her way.
    One of the soldiers took the