“This bridge of boats is sturdier and it’s not crowded with fugitives,” Hawkins said. “But I’d rather not risk my life on it.”
Callie stared at the chained barges and made a mental note to ask Richard more questions later. But for now, her attention was on this reunion. She’d burned with impatience for the last week, but finally, she was here.
It had been almost a fortnight since she’d sent her family north. The journey to St. Michaels had been slow in the damagedZephyr,and twice they’d had to shelter in one of the many creeks and rivers that ran into the bay when they saw the clustered masts of Royal Navy ships.
St. Michaels had proved to be a charming town, where memories of the previous year’s British attack were vivid. The owner of Landers Shipyard was happy to undertake repairs to theZephyr; he and Hawkins had done business before. Landers also negotiated the hire of a swift sailboat that was small enough to be overlooked but large enough to carry all of Callie’s family.
Hawkins clearly enjoyed having a small, responsive boat he could sail with his own hands. He’d brought one of his sailors to help and Richard also acted as crew. To Callie’s inexpert eyes, Richard seemed as skilled as Hawkins. She supposed he’d qualified as an able seaman by the end of the long voyage from Britain to Botany Bay, and he’d been on and off ships ever since.
Now, finally, her journey was over. She sat on the right of Hawkins, who was at the tiller to guide the boat in. “Newell’s is right on the waterfront.” She scanned the solidly built warehouses that lined the harbor. “There!” She pointed. “That tall building with a hoist at the top and a church spire beyond.”
Richard sat on Hawkins’s other side, intently studying the streets and buildings. “There seems to be a lot of preparation for a possible attack, but not a mass evacuation as there was in Washington.”
“This city is larger, better defended, and has more to lose,” Hawkins said. “There also must be a competent military man in charge, which Washington didn’t have.”
“I hope you’re right!” Callie said fervently as they glided gently to the pier nearest Newell’s warehouse. Richard and Hawkins’s sailor attached the mooring lines, then Richard climbed onto the pier and extended a hand to Callie. “Almost there, Catkin,” he said encouragingly.
She scrambled up onto the pier, thinking how much easier this would be if she wore the trousers Richard had supplied. But now that she was in Baltimore, she needed to look and act like a woman of authority.
Hawkins said, “I’m going to call on a fellow I’ve done work for in the past. Later we can determine the next step.”
Callie nodded, wishing she knew what that was. Then she set out for Newell’s warehouse at a fast walk. When Richard fell into step beside her, she said, “You needn’t escort me. The warehouse is just a few steps away.”
“The city is in turmoil, so you’re stuck with me until your situation is settled.” He gave her a half smile. “You’ll be rid of me soon.”
The knowledge was painful, but also a relief. Richard was too disquieting for her peace of mind.
Her step quickened as she approached the warehouse. The wide loading doors were closed, but she saw a light from the small office in one front corner of the building. She stepped inside, blinking at the loss of sunlight. The office looked much as she remembered it, with a counter, several chairs, and drawers and a table behind.
The place seemed unoccupied. Then she saw a figure behind the counter. It was a woman making a rag rug with braids of scrap fabric spread over a table.
Not a woman, a girl. Her stepdaughter. Callie recognized her an instant before Molly looked up. “Miss Callista!” she exclaimed, racing around the end of the counter.
The girl tumbled into her arms, gasping, “We were so afraid you were dead!”
Callie hugged her hard, trying to remember when Molly had become taller than she was. “I’m so glad to see you! Why did you think I was dead?”
“News reached us that our house was burned down by the British and no one knew what had become of you. We were afraid that you were trapped inside when the fire was set.” She hugged Callie again. “The last fortnight has been horrid!”
“You must tell me everything that has happened. But first I want you to meet an old friend of mine who escorted me here from Washington.” She gestured at Richard, who waited quietly inside the door, then hesitated, realizing that she didn’t know how to introduce him.
He solved that by saying, “I’m Gordon.” He extended his hand. “Callista said you were beautiful, Molly, and she did not exaggerate.”
Molly smiled and took his hand. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”
Callie realized that after a mere fortnight of separation, she was much more aware that Molly was a young lady, no longer a girl. Her stepdaughter was stunning, with dark wavy hair and golden skin that complemented her lovely face and figure. And like her beautiful mother, she had warmth in her eyes. She’d also learned to accept a compliment graciously without having her head turned.
Callie asked, “Why are you here in the office, and why has the last fortnight been a nightmare? Has something gone wrong beyond being uprooted from our home?”
“I’m keeping an eye on the office because the manager and warehousemen have joined their militia companies and are drilling all day and into the night,” Molly explained. “There’s no one else to do it. Grandmother came down with a horrid fever and frightened us to death.”
“Sarah is ill? I must go to her!” As Callie turned to find the stairs, Molly raised a hand.
“The crisis is over and she’s doing well, but she’s resting now. There’s no need to rush upstairs. Come behind the counter and we can exchange news.”
Callie halted reluctantly and followed Molly into the sitting area in the back of the office. Richard came along, silent but interested.
“Where’s your grandfather?” Callie asked.
