Mud squished between her stocking-covered toes and coated her petticoats halfway to her knees. Lucy wiped her feet as best she could on her petticoats, slipped on her shoes, settled in the center seat, and picked up the oars. She had rowed a little boat on the pond at her grandparents’ farm plenty of times, but she had never tried rowing across a river. If she couldn’t do it, it wasn’t just her in danger, but also Theo.
“You keep watch, Theo. I’ll row,” Lucy said, putting her back into the effort as she forced her arms and shoulders into motion.
Every muscle in her body screamed in protest as they crossed the river, but she kept rowing, watching the city of Philadelphia grow smaller as they neared the New Jersey shore.
“Keep going, Lucy. We’re almost there,” Theo said, then patted her on the shoulder. “We need to go to the left.”
She altered direction, and Theo smacked her on the back. “The other left!”
Lucy bit her tongue to swallow down a retort and again changed direction, then rowed hard, hoping the bank was near because she was spent.
Just then, she felt the oars hit the silty bottom near the bank and knew they had made it. If they weren’t trying to quietly make their way to the stable, she would have shouted in exultation.
As it was, she made a final row, pleased when the boat bumped into the bank. She had barely settled the oars beside her so they wouldn’t slip away in the water when the boat was given a tug that nearly toppled her off her seat.
She looked over her shoulder to see Theo staring at a man in the uniform of a Redcoat who stood on the riverbank. His musket was held by another soldier just slightly up the bank, waiting out of the mud.
“Cheery-ho! You appeared to need a hand, lovely miss and young lad,” the soldier said, offering Lucy a broad smile.
She forced herself to smile as she stood and picked up the basket that had been in the bottom of the boat beneath Theo’s seat. “Thank you, sir. My brother and I came over to visit our grandmother. She’s not well, and our mother sent a basket of food for her.”
“Is that so?” the soldier asked, offering Lucy a hand as she stepped out of the boat as elegantly as she could manage with mud in her shoes and coating her petticoats.
Theo climbed out of the boat so close to Lucy, she worried he would step on her petticoats and pull them off.
The soldier released her hand long enough to pull the boat higher onto the bank so it wouldn’t be in danger of drifting off.
“Why didn’t you ride the ferry?” the second soldier asked as Lucy and Theo followed the first to where he stood, rigid and stiff, eyeing them like they were dressed in Continental Army uniforms.
“We have the boat and are capable of rowing it. My brother, Maxwell, thinks it is great fun. Don’t you, Max?”
Theo nodded his head, acting as though he were mute, though Lucy knew he was simply scared speechless.
“Max, is it? Well, I’m Sergeant Bradford, and this scowling fellow is Corporal Spencer. Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just put out that I bested him at a game of cards,” the sergeant said, winking at Theo. “May we escort you somewhere, miss?”
“No, but thank you for the offer. It’s most kind of you.”
The sergeant removed his hat and bowed nobly to Lucy. “And should fortune smile down upon us and cross our paths again, might I know your name, beautiful miss?”
“Mercy Browne,” Lucy said, the lie sliding easily off her tongue. She tipped her head politely to Sergeant Bradford while the toothpick case in her pocket felt like it might scorch her skin.
“Miss Mercy Browne, it was a great pleasure to meet you. May you find your grandmother in good health and spirits.”
“Thank you, kind sir. Enjoy your evening,” she said, mindful of the minutes trickling away. Branch had told her she needed to be back before dark, and she could understand the wisdom of that. She did not want to row that stupid boat back across the river, especially if the daylight were gone. “Come along, Max.” She took Theo’s hand in hers and tugged him forward.
They walked in silence up to where the ferry boarded and followed the road in the direction Branch had given her for locating the stables.
It didn’t take long to reach it. Inside, the smell of horses and leather mingled with manure in a pungent odor that was nearly overwhelming. Theo wrinkled his nose, but didn’t comment as they stepped farther into the building.
A man who looked to be about Branch’s age moved out of a stall with a pitchfork in his hand. “You lost, miss?”
“No. I don’t believe so. We’re looking for Mr. Whitley.”
“Are you, now?” the man said, leaning the pitchfork against a stall and taking a stained handkerchief from his pocket and wiping at the moisture on his brow. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m Whitley.”
“A friend sent us. He said you’re quite partial to sassafras tea, particularly when enjoyed with a view of the creek.” Branch had told her his code name was Creek, and to use it in conjunction with her code name.
Whitley winked at Theo and nodded his head to Lucy. “That I am.” He motioned to the stalls behind him. “Would you like to see the horses?”
