Quickly taking stock of his injury, Branch realized it hurt, but his side didn’t feel aflame, so he was sure an infection hadn’t set in. A few days of rest, and he would likely be as right as rain on a spring cornfield.
With a look around the room, he was pleased to see Thomas slept peacefully, and the color had returned to his face. Ward seemed to know what he was doing when it came to providing care to a wound from a shot. Then again, the man had experience in the field from the French and Indian War.
Branch rose from the cot where he had slept next to the bed in which Thomas rested, careful not to wake his friend or Ward, who slumbered in a chair with his head resting on his crossed arms on the table.
On silent feet, Branch slowly made his way upstairs and out to the necessary. After splashing his face with cold well water to rid himself of the cobwebs of sleep that clung to his mind, he rested on the bench in the Carlsons’ garden before he tried to make his way back down to Ward’s secret room. He was debating if he had the strength to make it down the steps when he heard the jingle of a harness on the street outside.
At Branch’s behest, Ward had sent a note to Rowan, requesting he arrive early to transport Branch out to his farm. It didn’t surprise him to see Rowan stride around the corner of the building looking as fit as a newly tuned fiddle.
Branch forced himself to stand and lifted a hand to his friend.
“You look terrible. Ready to go?” Rowan asked, smirking at him.
Branch gave him a disparaging glance and motioned toward the house. “I hate to ask, but would you collect my things? It’s going to take all the strength I have to make it to your wagon.”
“I don’t mind. If you wait a moment, I’ll help you. I brought a carriage instead of the wagon because I thought it might be more comfortable for you. Just don’t get any ideas about this being a frequent occurrence.”
“Never,” Branch said, forcing what he hoped looked like a smile instead of a grimace of pain. He assumed the amount of blood he had lost yesterday contributed to his overwhelming weariness and weakness today. Although he wanted to see Lucy, to tell her how proud he was of her, how brave he thought she had been, it was probably best to leave now. He didn’t want her to see him until he had regained enough strength to at least carry on a teasing conversation with her.
“Is anyone up, other than you?” Rowan asked as Branch regained his seat on the bench.
“No one was up when I came out, but I think Mrs. Carlson will soon be in the kitchen if she isn’t already there.”
Rowan nodded and walked over to the back door. He tapped once, and the door opened almost immediately.
Cleta looked out and saw Branch on the bench, then welcomed Rowan and left the door open. The cool air would be welcomed inside their dwelling, and this early in the morning, the flies weren’t yet incessantly buzzing about.
Branch watched as Cleta came outside carrying a cup. She handed him the cider, along with a plate that held two pieces of bread slathered with butter and strawberry preserves, and a thick wedge of cheese.
“Thank you, Mrs. Carlson,” Branch said, taking the food and drink from her, and then saying a brief word of thanks not only for the meal, but for his spared life and the ability to watch a new day begin.
“Will you stay until Lucy and Theo come down?” Cleta asked.
When he shook his head, she didn’t seem surprised.
Cleta placed a hand on his shoulder and offered him a motherly smile. “She will miss you.”
“As I will miss her. I just need a few days to set myself to rights, then I’ll return. Please let her and Theo both know how much their fine work is appreciated.”
“I’ll do that,” Cleta said, then returned inside, leaving him to his breakfast.
He heard voices and could see Ward and Rowan speaking. Cleta handed Rowan bread and cheese. The man nodded his thanks, then stepped outside with Ward.
Rowan ate the food in four wolfish bites, wiped his hands on the legs of his breeches, then headed over to Branch with Ward beside him.
“Leaving so soon?” Ward asked, knowing it had been Branch’s plan all along.
He would have gone to the farm last night if he could have managed to get himself there. Except he couldn’t leave until he saw with his own eyes that Lucy was unharmed and Theo had suffered no ill from their expedition into New Jersey.
If the Redcoats who had spoken with them the previous evening had known Lucy was a dedicated spy for the Patriotscarrying an important message for General Washington right under their noses, he wondered if they would have believed it.
Likely not.
“I’ll rest better in my own bed, but thank you for everything, Mr. Carlson.”
“It’s Ward, and you’re welcome. Let’s get you on the way there before any of these detestable Redcoat rabble are awake to know what’s going on.” Ward carried Branch’s belongings, which didn’t consist of much.
“I’ll have Sarah wash and press your shirt,” Branch said, feeling slightly dizzy.
