“I almost killed a man, Esther! In cold blood.” He spread his arms and bent back, face toward heaven. “Shall I confess it? Do you hear me, Lord? I wanted revenge.” He seethed toward Esther. “The honor of the battlefield was long over when the men began killing the surrendering American Loyalists. I took up my dagger and knocked a man to his knees and so help me, I had every intention of—”
“Hamilton!” Eyes wide, she retreated a step, her fingers touching her lips.
“Do I shock you? Have you seen the darkness of my heart? Now you know we must not be together. To me, that soldier was the same ill form of human flesh that killed my pa. In cold blood in the town square. What was my father’s crime? Printing pamphlets without a stamp because he opposed the oppressive law.”
She lowered her hand. “You never said how he was killed.”
Hands on his waistband, he gazed toward the rolling hills, their serenity far, so very far away. “He was a printer. And when the king imposed the stamp tax, he printed without the stamp as a protest. A redcoat, a lieutenant not unlike Twimball, demanded to see his stamp. Pa refused, and right there, without judge and jury, the redcoat shot him.”
“And you witnessed it?”
“I was a boy of seven.” Blood ran down his arm where the wound had opened up. “I cried out and ran to him. The lieutenant kicked me in the ribs, then dragged me to the whipping post. Said if I was that man’s son, I must be an accomplice. I was to be made an example.”
“No...”
“My father’s partner intervened. Paid the soldier money to leave me be.” He peered at her, her blue eyes round with sadness. “The man killed my father for nothing. Money. The mayor tried to bring charges, but it only stirred up more dissension. Ma insisted the matter be put to rest with Pa.”
“I cannot imagine, Hamilton.” Esther set aside her scarf as she reached for his shirt and began washing it in the bucket.
“They killed my pa!” He gripped his hand into a fist. “Ma, Betsy, and I were left to fend for ourselves. My mother never recovered. I was nine when the house caught fire. She and Betsy died in the blaze.” He took the shirt from her, wrung out the water, and spread it over the small patch of grass surrounding the back steps. “I wonder if I shouldn’t have died as well.”
“You cannot mean it, Hamilton.”
“King’s Mountain revealed what I am capable of, and shame is my mantle.”
“But you didn’t use your dagger. You just said so.”
“Nor did I stop those who did. I’m just as guilty.”
“Then change. Repent as your uncle taught. You were born for a purpose, to do good. God has surely—”
“Become tired of me,” he said. “Of my ways, my doubts, my pride and wickedness.”
“He is also kind and benevolent, slow to anger, quick to forgive. Surely you’ve learned these truths from your uncle’s sermons.”
“Esther, cease with your pithy replies of kindness and forgiveness.” He retrieved the dagger from his boot. He would make her understand. Drive her away. “I stood over a man with this, his arms raised in surrender.” He wagged the weapon before her eyes. “I nearly drove this into his heart. How can you love such a man?Well, you must not.” He hurled the dagger into the ground. “I am precisely like the redcoat who shot my pa.”
“But youdid notstab him. You let him go. That’s the man I love. One of reason and compassion.”
Adrenaline flowing, his heart pulsing, he crossed the barnyard toward the trees. “Go home, Esther. Go home.”
“Hamilton, wait—”
But he escaped into the woods where he could no longer hear her voice. When he emerged on the other side, he followed a cattle trail toward the stream.
He splashed into the current, sinking into the silt. How could he live with himself, knowing what he was capable of?
Murder. How he’d judged Twimball, when he was no better.
Meanwhile, his aggravated wound continued to fester. Hamilton splashed the cold water over his arm, washing the cut. He’d need a clean bandage.
When he glanced up, a man dressed in brown broadcloth stood on the pebbled bank. Hamilton took him for a beggar.
“Be on your way. I’ve nothing for you,” Hamilton called.
“I’ve come to see you.” The man raised his arm, beckoning Hamilton. “Come, follow me.”
“Follow you?” Hamilton scoffed, the creek water flowing over his boots as he sank deeper. “To where? Into town? Are you a patriot or Loyalist?”
