Without giving much thought to what he was saying, Ethan had told Lillie that he hoped Richardson would be killed. Now, with that outcome seeming likely, he had second thoughts. Hanging the villain in the street would only confirm for Lillie and other Tories that the crowd was made up of ruffians and bloodthirsty miscreants.
Apparently, he was not the only person on Middle Street thinking this way. Another man stepped forward from the crowd and approached the would-be hangman. He was tall, broad-shouldered. Ethan recognized him as one of the leaders of the mob, and thought he might have seen him on other occasions when men took to the streets to make their case against the importers.
This gentleman and the hangman conversed for several moments; their exchange appeared, at least from a distance, to be most congenial. At last the hangman pulled down his rope and shook hands with the tall man. Many in the crowd jeered.
Soon enough, however, the mob found another means to make sport with Richardson and his friend. They bound the two men’s hands and then began to drag them through the lane, while men and boys in the throng kicked and beat the prisoners and pelted them with stones and refuse.
Ethan wondered if the two would have been better off with ropes around their necks. Rather than remain there and watch, he walked southward along Middle Street, away from the revelers and back over Mill Creek. By the time he reached the Dowsing Rod, he could no longer hear the crowd, though the church bell still pealed in the distance.
When Ethan entered the Dowser, Kannice and Kelf were at the bar, she polishing the wood, he drying tankards. A few British soldiers sat at tables, drinking ales and eating oysters, but otherwise the tavern was empty.
Kannice smiled at the sight of him. “You’re here early.”
A couple of the soldiers swiveled in their chairs to see who had come, but after regarding Ethan for a few seconds, they went back to their meals.
“Aye,” Ethan said, crossing to the bar. “My work’s done for today.”
She frowned. “Done? I don’t understand.”
“I left. I had no interest in collecting this day’s wage.”
Her frown deepened.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” Ethan said, his voice falsely bright. “We haven’t passed a day together in weeks.”
She knew him too well.
“I don’t like the sound of this. What’s happened, Ethan?”
He glanced at Kelf, who filled a tankard and placed it in front of him. “My thanks, Kelf.” He took a long pull, draining most of the cup’s contents.
“Ethan?”
“There was a mob there today. I think they planned to make an example of Lillie, as they have some of the other importers in recent days. But then Ebenezer Richardson showed up. He tried to bring down some signs they’d put up, and before long the mob turned their ire on him. One thing led to another and … and he fired a musket into the crowd.”
“May the Lord have mercy,” Kannice whispered.
Ethan shook his head. “If only. He shot a boy. I doubt the lad will last the night.”
“And Richardson?” Kelf asked.
“He’s being dragged through the streets as we speak. I’m not sure he’ll see the morrow either.”
Kannice canted her head to the side, her brow furrowed as she searched his eyes. “And Lillie sent you away?”
“No. As I said, I left. He was more worried about Richardson than the lad; he said the boy probably deserved what he got. I should have quit on the spot, told him I wouldn’t be coming back.” He looked away. “Some would say I should have done that some time ago. But all I did was leave. I suppose I’ll be going back in the morning. I’m not sure what that makes me.”
“What will you tell him when you go back?” Kannice asked.
Ethan sighed. “I don’t know.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “I know what you’d like me to do.”
“You have to decide what you want, Ethan. You need the money; I understand that.”
“Aye, but now there are other considerations.”
Lillie had been paying him fifteen shillings a day, which, while not a fortune, was more than enough to keep him fed and housed. As much as he wanted to end their arrangement, he wasn’t sure that he could afford to take so drastic a step. Besides, in all his years as a thieftaker, he had never abandoned an inquiry or stopped working for a client before his job was done. He was known to be reliable as well as honest and competent. He didn’t wish to mar this well-earned reputation.
But could he bring himself to work for the man after all that had passed this morning?
“No one would blame you if you quit,” Kannice said, reading the doubt on his face.
“Lillie would. And so would his friends.”
“You don’t have to work for them. There are other jobs. Even if you give up this one, you won’t be idle for long.” A smile crossed her lips. “And while you’re looking for a new employer, you and I could make up for lost time.”
“I’ll be in the back,” Kelf said, stomping into the kitchen, his ears bright red.
“So you’d be willing to take me back if I stopped working for Lillie?”
Kannice’s expression turned serious. “I’ve been ready to take you back all along, Ethan. You’re the one who wouldn’t stay.”
“I was waiting for an invitation.”
“And I was waiting for some indication that you wanted one.”
He gave a small, mirthless laugh. Kannice took his hand, and laced her fingers through his.
“Let me get you some bread and chowder. I’d wager every coin in my till that you haven’t eaten a bite today.”
“You’d win that wager.” He fished in his pocket for a half shilling.
“Ethan, don’t.”
“I’m not so desperate that I can’t pay for my supper. Not yet at least.”
She glared at him, trying with only some success to look stern. At length she relented and held out her hand. “Very well.”
He gave her the coin and she started back into the kitchen to get his meal. But then she halted and faced him once more.
“Do you know the boy’s name?” she asked.
“No. But I have a feeling we all will before long.”
Christopher Seider.
He was the son of a German laborer. And he was eleven years old.
The other young man who had been shot was Samuel Gore, the son of a captain in the colonial militia.
Word of the shootings spread through the city like smoke from a fire, until by nightfall no one was speaking of anything else. Gore was expected to recover, although Dr. Joseph Warren, who had treated the young man, said that he might never regain the full use of his hand.
Seider’s condition was far more grave. He was alive still, though only barely. Several doctors, including Warren, had tried to remove the shot from his lung, but none had succeeded. Most said it was merely a matter of time before the lad died.
Kannice’s tavern filled up as it always did, but on this night her patrons were unusually subdued. They ate and they drank, but conversations were spoken in hushed voices. Ethan heard not a thread of laughter.
Diver and Deborah came in and walked to a table a good distance from Ethan’s. Diver wouldn’t even look at him. Ethan considered joining them and telling Diver that he had decided he would no longer work for Lillie. But he was still wavering on what he should do come the morning, and he wasn’t convinced that Diver would care even if he did choose to terminate his arrangement with the merchant. He had been working for Lillie this morning, when Christopher Seider was shot. Nothing else mattered.
Instead, Ethan sat alone, sipping an ale. Like every person in the Dowser, he awaited news of the boy’s condition, looking toward the door each time it opened. But again and again he was disappointed.