CHAPTER TWENTY

A cold knot formed in Edwin’s stomach as he and Margaret neared Aunt Sally’s house. Outside, a large group of neighbors stood.

“What’s going on?” asked Margaret. Jonas grunted with excitement.

Edwin’s throat closed up. Had all his fears come true? Was he too late?

Mr. Newton spotted them as they approached. “You found her.”

“I found him,” Margaret corrected. “He was lost and he misplaced his crutches, too, but Jonas helped him out.”

“Bless you.” Mr. Newton hugged Margaret. “Oh child, your aunt will be so glad to see you. You have a new cousin. She’s a girl.”

Margaret beamed. “I told Aunt Sally it would be a girl.”

His wife came up behind him and hugged Margaret as well. “Child, we don’t know what to do. It appears someone has taken your sister.”

“Taken?” Edwin croaked as panic rioted within him. Taken, not murdered. He tried to calm himself.

“She went to the forge, but when she did not come back, the midwife found her hammer and tongs on the ground,” said Mrs. Newton. “Miss Agnes is particular about her tools and that’s not like her.”

Edwin frowned. Agnes must have returned home safely if she had been working at the forge and then disappeared from there. That meant she was not in the boat when it was attacked. The men succeeded in bringing her home. They must have been fired upon on the return trip to Sandy Hook. When he saw all the blood in the boat, he feared her dead and envisioned her lovely body riddled with musket shot, pierced, and bleeding.

She is not dead. Some of the weight lifted from him. If someone kidnapped her, that still left him with hope. He set his jaw. He would find her no matter what it took. He would have Agnes in his arms again.

“Hobart said he saw a wagon piled with hay heading away from the forge, but he thought little of it until later,” said Mr. Newton.

“Did anyone follow the tracks from the wagon?” he asked.

“They went into the creek and nobody was able to locate where the wagon came out of the creek bed.” Mr. Newton wrung his hands. “We sent for Joshua Huddy’s militia, but it’s going to be dark soon.”

“Where’s Hobart?” Edwin asked.

“Plowing the field with his ox,” Mr. Newton replied.

“Bring him here and get me someone who understands German,” Edwin ordered.

“The midwife can speak German,” said Mrs. Newton.

It did not take long to establish the fact that Hobart saw a wagon resembling one stolen from another farmer months ago.

Edwin’s heart began to sound like a hammer hitting an anvil as he questioned Hobart about the miller.

“Schwarzes herz,” Hobart insisted.

“He thinks the miller has a black heart,” the midwife explained.

Edwin remembered the foreign words and wished he had known their meaning sooner. He balled his hands into tight fists.

Hobart did not trust the miller, for he cheated him. Only once, Hobart pointed out, for he never let a man do it twice. Hired to help the miller with the haying on his land, Hobart was given less than the original amount agreed upon beforehand.

The second reason Hobart did not trust the man was because he caught sight of him setting fire to the house of one of their disaffected neighbors. Weeks later, Hobart noticed a very elaborate silver candelabrum from the charred home on display in the window of the miller’s own home.

“The man smiles at everyone, but he is evil, according to Hobart,” the midwife explained.

“Would he kidnap Agnes?” Edwin asked.

When the midwife asked Hobart the question, he clenched his jaw. Then he replied in his native tongue.

The midwife translated. “The miller wanted to marry Agnes, but she refused to be courted by him. It would make him angry. He is a cruel man when he is mad. He beats his horses.”

“The miller has a secret hiding place,” Margaret spoke out. Until then, she listened quietly to the proceedings. “There is a tunnel underneath his barn. Colleen and I found it when we went looking for boneset. The tunnel is moldy and the stones are green. It smells musty, but we walked along the tunnel and found a door at the end. Close to the door, I held my nose, for I did not like the bad smell. Colleen said it was the smell of black powder. The door was as sturdy as the walls of a fortress, she said, for she tried to open it and it would not budge. She was going to bring along a very thin rod next time and see if she could spring the lock.”

Everyone fell silent.

“Does anyone have a horse I might borrow?” Edwin asked.

* * *

The sun went down by the time Edwin worked out a plan. With caution and as silently as possible, he and a small force of three men approached the miller’s barn. They carried no lanterns, but the night sky was clear and the moon and stars above guided them on their way.

They split into two groups. Joshua Huddy and one other man intended to enter the top of the barn and search for a trap door into the cellar. No one knew if such a door existed, but everyone agreed on the possibility and the importance of blocking any escape route.

Edwin and another man skilled in springing locks went down the slope behind the barn. The man with Edwin went on foot, but a farmer loaned Edwin an old draft horse to ride. The ancient mare was nearly as quiet as a mouse, an unusual but excellent benefit under the circumstances. Still, the horse turned skittish when urged to go down the steep incline. Of necessity, Edwin moved further along the edge of the hill until the slope became more gradual. Then the horse was willing to step down, but precious minutes ticked by and the tension in Edwin’s body spiraled while his teeth clamped together so tight he thought he would shatter them from the pressure.

Margaret had drawn a map of the barn showing the entrance to the tunnel. Edwin and the militiaman went down the hill on the opposite side from the hidden tunnel. Edwin slid off the horse and tied it to a bush. The militiaman handed him a musket with the bayonet fixed in place. Edwin sucked in his breath. If someone hurt Agnes, he would do what he must.

Peering out from the corner, they studied the area. Due to the great shadow of the barn itself, they did not see the miller step out from the woods behind the barn until he pushed aside the large bush at the entrance to the tunnel.

The moment he disappeared into the tunnel, they scurried along the back of the barn. When they reached the bush, the distinctive click of a key opening a large lock echoed along the tunnel. The pain in Edwin’s leg did not matter at all. He rushed down the tunnel with the militiaman right behind him, but before they reached the door, it slammed shut and they heard the ominous click of the lock put into place.

Standing outside the door, only a tiny glimmer of light shone through the keyhole. The militiaman opened up his bag of tools to spring the lock. The heavy oak door muffled the sound from inside, but through the large keyhole, Edwin heard Agnes’s voice and the deeper rumble of the miller’s growl.

His temper flared. He wanted to break the door down, but after hearing what Colleen had told Margaret, the sturdy portal could be formidable enough to withstand a small siege.

* * *

Agnes fought to maintain a clear head. Her vision blurred as weakness spread through her. She thought of her mother falling into the roaring water of the river. Maybe her mother passed out. Maybe she did not intend to kill herself. Though she did hand Agnes the cameo.

Instinctively, Agnes’s free hand closed upon the memento at her bosom. Warmth flowed through her, as if the memories alone filled her with the power of love.

Love never fails. Remembering the scripture verse strengthened her.

The miller did not seem perturbed by her threat at all. He closed the door and locked it behind him. Then he pulled out a pistol.

“I will not miss at this distance,” he growled. “I can grab that candle before it ignites the powder.”

“In that case, I’ll put the flame closer to the powder.” She lowered her hand and wondered just how close was too close. Did it matter? She would not escape this madman.

“I am sorry it took me so long to get back to you.” The false geniality in his tone grated on her taut nerves. “I went to find the Zimmer boys. I hung them upstairs.”

Her stomach churned. “I heard the struggling.”

“They believed all they had to do was hide out for a few days and I would overlook their misplaced loyalty, but I never forget. Or forgive. I’ll load them in the wagon and leave it on the road somewhere. The wagon belongs to a disaffected farmer. I hate the disaffected almost as much as I hate the Tories. Someone will find the Zimmers and assume those loyal to the crown killed them, but the disaffected farmer will be suspect, too. It is a most perfect plan.”

“What of the shopkeeper and the two other farmers? Did you punish them as well?” Buying time in conversation would hardly help her, and yet she kept trying to think of some other way to trip him up. Anything would be a desperate gamble, but even a slight chance was worth it.

“The farmers were in their fields. I decided it would be most expedient to shoot them, especially since there were no other witnesses.” He sobered. “But the shopkeeper I shall have to save for another day. He will suffer the consequences of his action, just as you will.” He raised his gun and aimed at her heart.

She held her breath and moved the candle closer to the powder.

From above, a sudden heavy thump sounded. The miller turned his face upward.

“Has one of them escaped the noose?” he growled. “I will make him suffer far more!”

From somewhere further back, but still above, the rusty squeal of hinges came to her ears. Then another thump, far louder than the first, echoed downward into the cellar.

“No!” he cried. “It cannot be! I hung them good and proper. They should be dead by now.”

A loud click sounded in the lock at the door behind the miller. The door opened wide and crashed against the wall. The miller spun around and his gun fired. The musket ball ricocheted off the stones. He gave a cry and fell to the floor.

Agnes lifted the candle high. Edwin stepped over the body of the miller. She moved away from the table and the deadly explosive. Edwin caught her in his arms as she passed out.