The Raider Read online

  “It’s a bargain then,” Alex said. “We’ll stay together. I shall be the most delicate example of young manhood in America. And you will show us Americans how to work.”

  Nick frowned at that. “If someone sends me to the fields, I will quit. Ah, but I will have some tales to tell my family.”

  “I hope your family believes you more than mine does. Shall we start getting me dressed? I’m already beginning to hate that wig.”

  Chapter Three

  ALEXANDER allowed himself plenty of time to dress. After checking his wound, he and Nick began carefully padding his thighs until they filled the satin breeches, wrapping layers around his mid section until his belly stuck out almost a foot, then setting the heavy powdered wig on over his black hair. When they were through, he was so bundled that sweat was already beginning to form on his brow.

  “I don’t know if they’re worth this,” Alex said bitterly.

  “They are your people.” Nicholas shrugged.

  “Who have turned against me.” Alex had a vision of Jessica Taggert as she laughed at him on the dock. If she hadn’t been there, would the townspeople have believed his disguise?

  It was eleven o’clock when he waddled into the common room of the Montgomery house, and many people were waiting there for him. They pretended that they had genuine business with the Montgomery household, but Alex could see by their eyes that they were waiting for him. For just a moment, he held his breath, sure that someone would laugh and tell him to abandon his disguise now that he was home and among friends.

  But, one by one, they looked back at the drinks they were nursing.

  Alex glanced at Eleanor as she directed two women in cooking over the open fireplace. The common room was a combination kitchen, parlor and meeting room. Since the Montgomery family owned most of Warbrooke, they did the most business, and during the day nearly everyone in town came through this room for one reason or another. Sayer Montgomery had always seen that drink and food were waiting for those who came to his house.

  Two men in a corner of the room, sitting at the end of one of the two tables, began to speak quite loudly.

  “My son-in-law grew that wheat himself but before I could take it to Spain, I had to stop in England and unload it for them to inspect.”

  “And I had to take cocoa from Brazil to England to be inspected before I could bring it to Boston.”

  The men looked over their drinks to Alexander, but he was pretending not to hear them. They weren’t bothering to pay him the courtesy of speaking to him directly, so why should he show them his concern? And what did they expect him to do about English law? It was as if they still believed these were the days of medieval law and he was the lord who could go to the king personally and complain.

  “And I lost my ship because of sixty pounds,” Josiah Greene said.

  Alexander looked at the enormous plate of food that Eleanor set before him. He felt as if he were the only person in the audience of a play he’d already seen. As he ate, he listened to Josiah’s tale. No doubt he’d told it a thousand times, but the men here were replaying it for Alexander’s benefit.

  They told how Josiah had had a beautiful ship, one he’d been very proud of—but he’d angered John Pitman. Something about a piece of land Josiah owned and wouldn’t sell. Pitman said that he was sure Josiah had a hold full of green paint—a contraband article. Pitman seized Josiah’s ship but found no paint, so he brought a dozen soldiers and searched Josiah’s house in the middle of the night. In the course of the “search” a cellar full of food was destroyed, linens were ripped apart, furniture broken and his daughters terrorized. Josiah tried to get his ship back, but he was told that he’d have to put up a bond of sixty pounds. Since all his money was invested in the bond he had to give Pitman each time he sailed out of Warbrooke, he couldn’t afford another sixty pounds. His friends collected the money for him, but the burden of the proof of innocence was on Josiah’s shoulders. Pitman said there had been green paint on board; Josiah said there never had been. They stated their cases before the Colonial Admiralty Court—a judge, no jury—and the ship was given to Pitman and his officers since Josiah could not prove that he’d never had green paint aboard his ship.

  Alexander soon forgot his own misery as he glanced at Josiah, a man broken, all quite legally, by a greedy Englishman. Pitman wanted land Josiah owned and had not only gotten the land but had come to own everything else that had belonged to the Greene family.

  Alex kept his head bent over his food because he didn’t want them to see the anger that was boiling in him. If he was to keep his disguise, he could not allow them to see how their words affected him. He felt their eyes on him, watching him and waiting to see if he was the man they thought he was. They were like children who thought someone with the Montgomery name could fix their problems and make everything right once again.

  Alex was saved from showing his feelings because the door opened and in walked Jessica Taggert with a couple of big baskets full of oysters.

  Jessica took one look at the people, all of them standing completely still and looking as if they were expecting a storm to break, and knew immediately what was going on.

  “Still got your hopes up?” she laughed, glancing from one man to the other. “Still think this Montgomery is going to help you? God only made three Montgomerys: Sayer, Adam and Kit. This one doesn’t deserve the name. Here, Eleanor,” she said, handing the baskets to her sister. “It looks as if you’ll be needing these, what with a parade going through here all day.” She gave Alex a smirking look, although he hadn’t raised his head from the plate. “It looks like they’ll all get something to see with that one here.”

  Very slowly, Alex raised his head and looked at her. He tried to keep the fury out of his eyes, but he was only partially successful. “Good morning, Mistress Jessica,” he said in a low voice. “Are you selling those? Have you no husband to support you?”

  The men at the table across the room began to snicker. With Jessica so pretty, there wasn’t a man who hadn’t had contact with her in some way. Either they’d asked her to marry them after they’d worn out a wife with bearing babies, or they had a son who’d tried for her hand, or a cousin—or else the men just dreamed of having her. But now, here was a man who was insinuating that maybe nobody wanted her.

  “I can take care of myself,” Jessica said, drawing herself up to stand straighter. “I want no man under my feet; no man to tell me what to do and how to do it.”

  Alexander smiled at her. “I see.” He gave her a look up and down. Long ago, Jess had learned that she couldn’t run her little boat while wearing long skirts so she had adapted a sailor’s garment for her own use. She wore tall boots beneath baggy pants that reached her knees, topped by a loose blouse and an unbuttoned waistcoat. Except that her waist was very small and she had to belt the pants tightly to hold them up, she was dressed like most of the men in Warbrooke. “Tell me,” Alex said smoothly, “do you still want the name of my tailor?”

  The men began to laugh with more gusto than the joke warranted. So many of them had watched Jessica saunter down the dock, her hips moving in a way that made them gape. Even in her men’s clothing, she obviously had all the curves every woman wished she had.

  Eleanor stepped in before another jibe could be made. “Thank you for the oysters. Maybe you could bring us some cod this afternoon.”

  Jessica nodded mutely, still angry at the way Alexander had made the men laugh at her. She glared at Alex for a moment, not even bothering to look at the men around her who were laughing and so thoroughly enjoying her humiliation, then turned on her heel and left the house.

  Eleanor grabbed Alexander’s plate, still half-full of the food he couldn’t eat, and gave him a hard look, but she didn’t say a word. After all, he was her employer’s son. Instead, she turned to Nicholas, who was lounging against the door jamb. “Take this out to the hogs. And do it now!”

  Nick opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, his eyes
sparkling. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t contradict women.”

  At that, more laughter erupted, and for a moment Alex felt a part of the town again, not like the stranger he’d been forced to become.

  But their laughter stopped a moment later when Alex stood—or, rather, attempted to stand. He wasn’t used to the protrusion that was his padded belly and it caught on the lip of the table. At the same time, he twisted his shoulder, pulling on the partially healed gunshot wound. Between the pain and his confusion over what was holding him in his seat, it took a moment to get untangled.

  To him, it was almost humorous—but to the townspeople it was pathetic.

  Alex looked up to see pity in their eyes. Turning away to hide his anger, he left the room. It was time to meet John Pitman.

  He was just where Alex thought he’d be, in the office that had served the Montgomerys for three generations. He was a short, stocky man, balding back to midway on his head. Alex couldn’t see his face because he was bent intently over ledgers spread across the desk. Before Pitman looked up, Alex scanned the room and saw that two portraits of Montgomery ancestors had been taken from the walls and there was a heavy lock on a cabinet that had belonged to Alex’s mother. It looked as if the man meant to stay.

  “Ah hem,” Alex said, clearing his throat.

  Pitman looked up.

  Alex’s first impression was of eyes that pierced a man: big, intense, glittering like black diamonds. This man could do anything, Alex thought, maybe good, maybe bad.

  John Pitman looked Alex up and down, his hard eyes measuring him, seeming to remember what he’d heard of Alexander Montgomery and comparing it with what he now saw.

  Alex thought that if he wanted to fool this man, he was going to have to work at it. He withdrew a lace-edged white silk handkerchief. “So warm today, isn’t it? I feel fairly faint with the heat.” He minced his way, letting his hips lead him, toward the window and lounged against the jamb, the handkerchief delicately dabbing at the sweat on his neck.

  Pitman leaned back in his chair and silently appraised Alex.

  Alex gazed out the window, letting his eyelids droop lazily as he watched Nicholas throw feed toward the chickens and doing it in such a way that the breeze caught half the seed and carried it away. Eleanor came running toward him, her apron flapping and two of the Taggert brats on her heels.

  Alex looked back to Pitman. “I take it you’re my new brother-in-law.”

  Pitman took a moment to answer. “I am.”

  Alex moved away from the window toward a chair. He sat in it primly, crossing his legs as best he could considering the padding on his legs and belly. “And what is this I hear about your stealing from the people of Warbrooke?” He waited a while before looking up at Pitman. The man’s eyes reflected his soul. Alex could almost see him doing calculations in his head.

  “I do nothing illegal.” Pitman’s voice was restrained.

  Alex picked imaginary lint from the lace at his sleeve, then held the lace up to the light. “I do so love good lace,” he said wistfully and then looked back at Pitman. “I imagine you married my spinster sister to obtain access to the eight thousand feet of wharf we Montgomerys own.”

  Pitman said nothing, but his eyes glittered and his hand moved toward a drawer. A pistol? Alex wondered.

  Alex used his tiredest voice. “Perhaps we should try to understand one another. You see, I have never fit in with the Montgomerys, such a loud, overbearing, brutish lot. I favored music, culture, the art of the table rather than standing on the deck of a lurching ship, swearing at a pack of smelly sailors.” He shuddered slightly. “But my father decided, as he said, ‘to make a man’ of me and sent me away. The money he gave me ran out quickly so I was forced to return.”

  Alex smiled at Pitman but the man said nothing. “If I were one of my brothers, I believe I’d have every right to evict you from this office.” He nodded toward the locked cabinet. “I imagine that is full of papers, perhaps even some deeds of ownership. And it would be my guess that you used Montgomery funds to purchase what goods you own, thereby making them, legally, Montgomery deeds.”

  Pitman’s eyes were like two coals on fire and he looked as if he were about to spring at any moment.

  “Let us make a bargain. I have no desire to spend my life in this room juggling pieces of paper, nor do I want to be confined on a boat where I am expected to do heroic deeds such as my revered brothers accomplish on an hourly basis. You do not touch the Montgomery lands—we never sell the land—and pay me, say, twenty-five percent of your profits and I will not interfere with you.”

  Pitman gaped for a moment, his eyes going from dangerous to wary. “Why?” was all he said.

  “Why not? Why should I put myself out for anyone in this town? My own sister has not extended a welcome to me, merely because I do not live up to the expected ideal of the Montgomery name. And, too, it’s easier for me to allow you to do the work while all I do is collect part of the profits.”

  Pitman began to relax and his hand moved away from the desk drawer, but there was still caution in his eyes. “Why did you return?”

  Alex gave a laugh. “Because, my dear fellow, they expect me to do something about you.”

  Pitman almost returned Alex’s smile and relaxed even more. “Perhaps we can work together.”

  “Oh yes, I believe we can.” Alex began to talk to Pitman in a lazy style that he hoped would convey the impression that he wasn’t really interested, but he wanted to know to what extent Pitman had put the Montgomery holdings in debt and, if possible, to find out what he was planning. Pitman’s appointment as Customs Officer gave him a massive amount of power. It was left up to his integrity whether he abused that power or not.

  It was while Alex was attempting to get information from Pitman that he saw a head appear at the top of the window—an upside-down head of one of the Taggert kids. The head disappeared almost in the same instant, but Alex knew that the child had been listening.

  Alex waved his hand at Pitman. “I’m tired now. You may tell me more later. I think I shall take a stroll, then nap before supper.” He yawned behind his handkerchief and then rose and left the room without a further word to Pitman.

  “If I get my hands on that kid, I’ll wrap his ears about his throat,” Alex muttered. He couldn’t hurry through the corridors of the house because if someone saw him, his image would be shattered. It wasn’t easy to act languid and still hurry. He had to catch that child and find out what he’d heard.

  Once outside, he stood still, trying to figure where a child would have run to if he’d been caught doing what he shouldn’t. Alex remembered how many times he’d escaped to the woods when he was a boy.

  Following an old Indian trail, he walked into the quiet darkness of the forest that ran behind the Montgomery house. About half a mile in was a cliff that led down to a little rocky beach called Farrier’s Cove. Alex headed for it now.

  Agilely, he made his way down the bank and came face to face with the Taggert boy he’d caught eavesdropping and Jessica.

  “You may go, Nathaniel,” Jessica said haughtily, her eyes on Alexander, every bit of her hatred showing in them.

  “But, Jess, I didn’t tell you—”

  “Nathaniel!” she said sharply, and the boy clambered up the embankment and they could hear his footsteps retreating.

  Alex didn’t say a word to her, since he wanted to find out how much the boy had told her.

  “So now we know why you came back to Warbrooke. Those poor fools thought you were going to help them. Twenty-five percent should keep you in laces.”

  Alex tried to keep his face from showing his emotion. It looked as if the brat had told her everything. Amazing memory—not to mention hearing—the child had. He turned his back to her so that she couldn’t see his face. He had to find a way to keep her from talking. If this got back to the townspeople or…He thought of his father, already an invalid: this would kill him.

  He turned back to her, sm
iling. “So how much do I pay you to keep your mouth shut?”

  “I don’t sell myself for money.”

  He gave her a sneering look up and down, then put his handkerchief to his nose as if to get away from her fish-stinking clothes. “I can see that.”

  She advanced on him. He was taller than she, but with his s-curved slouch, they were almost equal. “There are no words low enough to describe you. You’d take money from a man who ruins people just so you can have those silk clothes.”

  As she moved closer to him, Alex forgot all about what she’d heard and that he wanted to keep her from repeating it. All he was aware of was her eyes flashing with fire and passion and her breasts inches from his chest and heaving. She kept yelling at him and calling him names that no lady had ever called him before, but he didn’t hear a word of it. When her lips were very close to his, she stopped abruptly and moved back. Alex’s breath was coming from deep within his chest.

  Jessica stood back and looked at him, her eyes blinking rapidly, as if in confusion.

  Alex recovered himself and looked with longing at the sea. He considered jumping into the water to cool off.

  “And who do you plan to tell about this?” he asked at last, no longer looking at her. He was too aware of the privacy of where they were to trust himself too far.

  “The people of Warbrooke are afraid of Pitman because he represents the king—not to mention the English navy. But you, they aren’t afraid of you. If they knew what Nate heard this morning, they’d tar and feather you and then hang you. You wouldn’t be allowed to live. They want someone to blame for what happened to Josiah.”

  “So what do you plan to do with your information?”

  “It would kill your father if he knew.” She looked down at the rocky beach. Not far from her was a basket half-full of clams which she’d obviously been digging before he came.