Guns of Liberty Read Online Free PDF Page B

the earth. The gusting breeze felt good on her calves.
    She stood over him, a folded woolen blanket in hand.
    “The nights are cool still.”
    “I am in your debt, Kate.” He stood and spread the blanket over the straw he had mounded for a bed.
    “Maybe I wanted to see if you’re still here. You might have slipped away and taken my mares.”
    “Is that what you thought?”
    “Maybe.” Her lips were upturned in a ( teasing smile. “I will tell you something, Daniel. My mother was a dutiful wido … for a while. And afterward when we moved to New York and she took a position as a nanny and teacher …” Kate’s story trailed off as she realized how much she was revealing to this newcomer. Yet she felt she could trust him. “My mother was not a patient person,” the young woman said, lowering her voice. “Neither am I.”
    Kate started back to the inn. Daniel watched her go, wondering what she had meant. It was too much puzzlement for one night. He stretched out, settled back in the straw, and went to sleep.
    It was a familiar dream recalling the past. The years drifted away and Daniel was once again a ten-year-old boy riding his father’s broad shoulders as Brian Farley McQueen strolled along the edge of the fairgrounds following a crowd of onlookers toward the finish line of the race. To young Daniel peering over the adults, it seemed most of the townspeople had the same idea. The riders had left half an hour ago, racing toward Boston proper three miles beyond the first low hills. A column of dust in the distance signaled the participating riders were on their way back. Six of the fastest horses in Massachusetts were competing for a fine new carriage that Brian McQueen had been commissioned to build. The race was the highlight of the fair. Young Daniel could feel the tension in the air, and as the horsemen came into view, the boy began to kick his heels against his father’s shoulders.
    “Easy, lad. I’m no racehorse,” Brian said, wincing with every blow. Daniel clutched his father’s hair and pointed.
    “I see them, Father! The black is in the lead, just like you said she’d be.”
    “Of course.” Brian McQueen grinned. He tried to find a suitable spot for himself among the crowd. Being a man of compact build, he craned his bull neck and raised up on his toes to peer past the shoulders of the men and women blocking his path. Suddenly, the crowd shifted. He saw a gap, made his move, and wormed his way to the fore. He lifted Daniel off his shoulders so as not to anger the crowd behind him.
    Daniel cheered for the black mare that had held the lead since the start of the race. The sleek, swift animal was a frequent guest in the stable where Brian McQueen kept his blacksmith shop. Squire Trevane often boarded the animal at the smithy. Trevane was a well-to-do landowner whose estate holdings had been purchased with the profits from his shipping business in Boston.
    Trevane knew horses, and the black mare was as fine a specimen of horseflesh as Brian or his son had ever seen. Young Daniel had grown to consider the black mare as much his as the squire’s, so he cheered and waved the horse on as if he were its rightful owner.
    Even in his dream, Daniel could smell the sweat and the dust and feel the press of the adults around him as the crowd became more animated and surged closer to the finish line. Townsmen and fanners shouted till they were hoarse and pummeled the air with their fists. The ground trembled underfoot. The horses loomed large, their manes flowing and hooves churning the dirt.
    “Yes,” Daniel shouted. “C’mon, Lady Jane. C’mon.” His voice was drowned out by the din of adults. He didn’t care. He was certain Lady Jane recognized him in the crowd. He was certain she would win just for him, the boy who groomed her and always brought her treats from the garden.
    In a thunder of drumming hooves and a blur of motion, the pack of horses crossed the finish line, the black mare leading by a