Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution by Suzanne Adair Page A

Hampshire."
    David rubbed
his chin.   "Oh.   That's a different offer and a point in
Hunt's favor.   You wouldn't be bored in
London unless his money ran out or he lost interest in you.   But somehow I just don't see you in
London."   He took her hand and patted
it.   "My dear sister, you've set
this ship a-sail on the open seas and given her a bearing.   Let others trim the sails and tack to keep
her on course.   The ship will find
harbor, I assure you.   And don't worry
about the print shop.   With six brats running
around, ink creates an appealing diversion for Susana right now."
    "You must
be joking.   She hasn't touched that
press in fifteen years."   But
Sophie knew her absence was just the opening Susana had been waiting for.
    David's grin
took a bawdy bend around the corners of his mouth.   "I suspect it's like climbing in the saddle after you've
been out of it awhile.   Comes back to
you with hardly a hitch."
    She pulled away
to hide a blush.   David wasn't talking
about horses.   Eight long years it had
been for her.   "What would you know about being out of the saddle?"
    "It was an
intelligent guess."
    Outside the
hut, they heard MacVie approaching.   "Better not be wasting my time with this, Jacques.   I got a fence to repair before the new hogs
arrive.   And that ghoul, Fairfax, is
harassing me."
    Sophie caught
her brother's eye.   "Let me handle
this."

Jacques opened
the door for the hog farmer and assumed a position just inside.   MacVie removed his hat, nodded to David, and
stared at Sophie.   "Mrs. Barton!   We heard you were kidnapped."   His gaze encompassed her loose hair and the
strands of beads and shells atop Two Rainbows' shirt, and his lip curled.   "Perhaps something worse than
kidnapped."
    She clasped
hands behind her back and regarded him with a cool eye.   "When was the last time you saw my
father alive?"
    He looked at
the ceiling and hummed several seconds before returning an indulgent
smile.   "Oh, nine o'clock Saturday
night."
    "Where?"
    "At the
dance."
    "You
didn't encounter him alive after the dance was over?"
    "No."   He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.
    "When did
you last see Jonah Hale alive?"
    "About the
same time as Will, right after the dance started."   His tone hardened.   "Why are you asking questions?"
    "Where
were you between ten Saturday night and two Sunday morning?"
    "Not that
it's any of your business, but I was at the dance, and then Donald, Charley,
and me had a couple rounds at Donald's house before I went home to bed.   Find fault with that."
    "I
will.   We suspect you of complicity in
my father's murder."
    His face
contorted.   "How dare you say
that?   He was my friend!"   He bared teeth.   "I don't care if you're his daughter.   I don't owe you anything."
    She ignored his
statement but not the sentiment.   MacVie
despised her, so she'd best watch her back.   "Some friend you are.   You
never came by Sunday to offer condolences.   Not a one of you rebels did.   And
you seem to have forgotten that I witnessed an argument between you and my
father just before the first dance.   I
overheard you say to him, '...just you and Jonah, eh?'   He and Jonah are now dead.   Coincidence?   I think not."
    "I don't
have time to listen to your foolishness —"
    "I shall
be blunt then.   You rebels betrayed my
father and Jonah Hale because you were bought out by a Spaniard known as El Serpiente."
    The momentary
widening of his eyes indicated surprise and panic galloping through him.   Zack MacVie, defender of the patriot cause,
had been nabbed.   "E-El Who?"
    "You're
such a terrible liar.   Two Spaniards
came looking for my father at our home early Sunday.   One was flayed alive on your property not long after.   The other was El Serpiente."   She balled her fists.   "You know him."
    MacVie darted a
look around the hut, his fingers clenching and unclenching.   "How much of this do the bloodybacks know?"
    She smiled
again.