Midnight Read Free

father to us both.”
    Just as Arte’s late father, Josiah, had influenced Nicholas’s early life, Primus had played a similar role in Arte’s by taking them fishing and teaching them to hunt. Nick and his father hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but Primus had walked the earth as a sterling example of an upstanding and educated free Black man. No longer. Nick wondered how things might have fared between father and son had he returned sooner, but speculating in hindsight served no purpose. Nick had hated the British for many years, and now, because of his father’s ignominious death, that hate increased tenfold. “Who amongst the Blacks here do you think I might speak with about the arrest? Maybe someone within the rebel ranks.”
    “Prince Hall,” Arte responded without hesitation.
    “I don’t know him.”
    “He moved to the city while you were away. Maybe been here ten years. Came with nothing but worked hard and is very well respected. He often spoke at anti-slavery rallies alongside your father. Unlike some, Hall clearly supports the rebels.”
    “So he may know how deeply my father was involved.”
    “I can’t say, but he’d be someone to speak with about it. Your father trusted him.” Arte peered over at the weary Nick as if trying to see what he might be thinking, then added, “You look dead on your feet. We have room if you want to sleep here tonight. Your house has to be freezing after being empty these past few months.”
    “Thank you. I accept.”
    “It’s good to have you back, Nick.”
    Nick nodded. “Thanks for all you’ve done.”
    “It’s what a man does for his friend.”
    T he following morning, Nick thanked Arte and his wife, Bekkah, for their hospitality, and after promising to stop back later, he went home, saddled his horse, and rode into Boston to visit his father’s grave.
    The city of Boston was named after a town in England’s Lincolnshire County. Colonial Boston was the capital of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Following the end of the Seven Years’ War in 1763, it stood as the wealthiest and most influential city in the colonies. Its deep harbor and favorable geographic placement also made it the busiest colonial seaport; a remarkable accomplishment considering the city was founded by one man.
    From his days at school, Nick knew that the man was William Blackston or Blaxton, depending on which records were consulted, and in 1625 he had lived alone on the open grassy plain known to present-day citizens as the Boston Commons. When other Europeans arrived in 1636, they purchased hundreds of acres of land from him, which no doubt surprised the native population, who’d had no idea Blackston owned the land they and their ancestors had lived on for centuries.
    They city was much more built up than it had been during Nick’s youth. The winding narrow streets were now filled with a bevy of taverns, shops, and homes; some were familiar, others not. He saw soldiers everywhere. Their bloodred uniforms made them stand out like wounds against the drab earth tones worn by the citizens, and according to Arte, Gage’s troops were considered just that.
    While riding Nick avoided eye contact with those he passed and skirted the soldiers as best he could. He had no desire to call attention to himself. Having spent most of his adult life among cutthroats, smugglers, pirates and other ne’er-do-wells, he prized anonymity. Copp’s Hill Burying Ground was on the north end of the city where the small but thriving free Black community had established itself.
    He and his father had made yearly trips to Adeline’s grave, so Nick had little difficulty finding it. The familiar weathered headstone with its angel wings framing Adeline’s name, years of birth and death, stood next to a brand-new stone that bore Primus’s name. It was stark and devoid of ornamentation, but rose from the earth with a pride that denoted the man interred beneath. Nick’s heart tightened in his chest. Grief tinted with