The Blacksmith's Daughter: A Mystery of the American Revolution Read Free Page B

with his axe.   After grabbing his fowler and cartridge box, she headed for the front
door and peered out the window.
    Their coats blazed scarlet by
patchy afternoon sunlight, their muskets resting across their thighs, six
unfamiliar soldiers sat on horseback in the yard gazing down at the
hounds.   Dust and sweat lined the men's
faces.   Betsy watched Clark round the
corner of the house and heard him whistle.   The dogs quieted and meandered to him.   "Afternoon, gentlemen.   May
I help you?"
    A young lieutenant with dark hair
removed his cocked hat.   "Good
afternoon, sir.   I'm Lieutenant Michael
Stoddard, sent out of Alton by Captain John Sheffield.   I've business with Elizabeth Sheridan.   They've told me this is her home.   Do you know where I may find her?"
    "Ah."   Clark gestured for the soldiers to dismount,
propped his axe against the side of the house, and shook the lieutenant's
hand.   "How do you do.   I'm John Clark Sheridan, her husband.   Betsy?   Hallo, Betsy!   You've
visitors."
    A diminutive chill drifted up her
spine.   What did the soldiers want with her when they should be tracking her wily, old Grandpapa Will St. James, the rebel
who dared collaborate with enemy Spaniards?   Had they sniffed her mother or uncle's escape?   She set down the fowler and ammunition, walked out to Stoddard,
and curtsied.   "Good
afternoon.   I'm Betsy Sheridan."
    Reins in his hand, the officer
stood at attention and inclined his head.   Her first impression, that he was but twenty years old, arose when she
spotted a few pimples on his chin, but she realized from the responsibility in
his dark eyes that he was probably three or four years older — of average
height and build, not at all an uncomely fellow.   "Lieutenant Stoddard out of Alton."   From inside his coat he removed a sealed
letter, which he presented to her.
    She broke the seal, opened the
letter and read:
     
    10 July
1780, Town of Alton
    MADAM:
    For the Purposes of Formality, I am desirous of tying up a few
loose Threads regarding this disturbing Business of your Grandfather, Mother,
and Uncle.   Therefore I beg leave that
you grant me an Audience.   You and Mr
Sheridan are welcome to join me for afternoon Tea on Wednesday 12 July. Please
accept Lieut Stoddard and his Soldiers as Escort.   I shall see that you are given a suitable Escort for your Return
to Augusta following our Audience.
    I am
Madam
    Your
obedient Servant
    Captn John Sheffield
    Mrs Elizabeth Sheridan nee Neely
     
    Betsy reread the letter, noting
Sheffield's wording.   She wasn't under
arrest or being commanded.   This was a
social event, and her husband was invited.   Except for the presence of the soldiers, she sensed no pressure in the
arrangement.   Considering that
highwaymen often roamed postal roads, the soldiers represented a generous
gesture from Captain Sheffield.   She'd
wanted an excuse to go to Alton and begin her search for Mathias Hale.   Here was that excuse.
    So why the twinge of foreboding?
    She folded the letter.   "Clark, shall we have afternoon tea on
the morrow with Captain Sheffield?"
    "Must we stay overnight with
your Aunt Susana?"
    "It's just for one night.   Come now.   For that time, you can nod your head at her gabbing and bite your
tongue."
    "Oh, very well.   I shall make arrangements with the neighbors
to look after the animals while we're gone."
    Betsy smiled at Stoddard, who
relaxed for the first time in her presence.   "I shall be delighted to take tea with Captain Sheffield.   What time shall we away in the morning,
Lieutenant?"
    "Look for our escort at seven
o'clock.   Thank you, madam,
sir."   Stoddard signaled his men to
remount and climbed into his horse's saddle.
    Clark's smile was all charm.   "You're a man after my heart, Mr.
Stoddard.   Nothing like an early start
to escape the heat, eh?   And matters
must be blessedly slow for you fellows in Alton if Captain Sheffield could
afford to send his