Kimberly Keagan
British-occupied Philadelphia
December 3, 1777
The back hall floorboards creaked, and Rebekah Scott’s hands trembled as she grabbed her cloak from its hook and slipped out the door. Behind her, the boisterous voices of the redcoats who occupied her family’s home grew faint, and Rebekah almost tripped in her haste to reach the stable.
The streets were eerily quiet, as many businesses and supporters of the Continental Army had deserted Philadelphia that autumn. To deliver the intelligence she’d gleaned from the British officers, Rebekah needed to sneak past the patrols and make her way to the rebels stationed on the outskirts of the city. The plan was shaky at best.
With her father, an overworked physician, in possession of their only carriage, Rebekah had no choice but to ride his chestnut mare. Her heart raced as she secured the saddle and placed her booted foot in the stirrup.
The horse’s snort was her only warning before a hand clamped her arm in a vise-like grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Even in the dim light, Rebekah could make out Noah Haynes’s clenched jaw.
“That’s none of your business.” She shrugged off his arm. “And don’t touch me again, you traitorous cur.” How dare the man demand answers from her when he broke bread with the crown’s henchmen in her dining room?
“My, what a sharp tongue you have.” Noah pushed back the fur-trimmed hood from Rebekah’s head. “I remember when that pretty mouth of yours only spoke words of honey to me.”
“That was before. This is now.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “If you think you’re going to risk your neck to warn the rebels, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“I am, and you won’t stop me.” Although Noah was not the man she once thought, Rebekah believed he wouldn’t harm her. She refused to concede defeat now with the safety of so many men, her brother included, at stake.
Rebekah lifted her chin, and Noah sighed. He was well-acquainted with her stubborn streak.
“Get on your horse.” He helped Rebekah mount and pulled himself up behind her. Strong arms snaked around her middle, and his chest pressed against her back.
Rebekah peered over her shoulder to stare at the face she’d loved not so long ago. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going with you.” Before she could respond, he placed a finger on her lips. “I need you to trust me.”
What other option did she have? She prayed Noah might have had a change of heart when he’d learned of General Howe’s strategy to attack Washington’s forces before winter set in.
Darkness blanketed Philadelphia, and a dense fog rolled in from the Delaware like a shroud. The wind blew through the alleyways, sending icy shivers up Rebekah’s arms.
Almost to the city’s border, Rebekah leaned back into Noah’s warmth.
A shout cracked the air. “Halt!”
Rebekah jumped, and her head bumped Noah’s chin. A British patrol ran out of the shadows, his bayonet pointed at their horse.
“What’s your business?” The Englishman—too young to be this far from home—glared up at them.
“I’m Noah Haynes.” Noah pulled a sheet of paper from his coat. “I have permission to pass.”
The soldier glanced at the paper bearing the seal of Howe himself. “Where are you coming from?”
“The meeting at Dr. Scott’s house. My wife and I are heading home for the night.”
“Very well, carry on,” the soldier said, lowering his weapon.
As they moved away, Rebekah turned to see the patrolman conferring with another soldier.
“We’d better pick up the pace.” Noah nudged the horse into a brisk canter. “Who are you planning to deliver your information to?” he asked, his lips near her ear.
“There are Continental Army contacts who frequent the Rising Sun.”
Noah’s arms tightened around her. “I know the place.”
At the tavern, they found one of Colonel Boudinot’s men just outside the popular establishment, and Rebekah relayed her message.
The man didn’t bat an eye. “Someone else arrived about an hour ago with the same report. We appreciate the confirmation.”
Rebekah slumped against Noah, and he put his arm around her. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”
They returned to the city, taking an alternate route to escape recognition. Only when they turned down her street did Rebekah relax her rigid muscles. She hoped the officers, who’d opened a bottle of whiskey before she left the house, would be fast asleep by now.
Before they reached the stable, however, loud voices reverberated from an alleyway, and footsteps pounded on the cobblestones.
Noah turned their horse in the opposite direction and spurred the animal into a gallop.
“Where are you taking us?” Fear clawed at Rebekah’s throat.
“My brother’s farm. They won’t follow us that far from town.”
Noah didn’t let up on the reins until they reached their destination. After he helped her dismount, Rebekah rested a hand on Noah’s arm and gazed up at him. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Of course.” Noah brushed a gloved finger against Rebekah’s cheek. He opened his mouth but was interrupted by his brother, who’d appeared on the porch with a gun.
“James, it’s me. I need your help,” Noah said.
“I always suspected your duplicity would get you in trouble.”
Rebekah’s gaze darted from James to Noah. “What’s he talking about?”
“I’m a spy for Washington, Rebekah. Recruited in September.”
Her eyes widened. Everything made sense now. “I should have known.” She wound her arms around Noah’s waist and buried her face in his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you.”
The rumble of his chuckle made her knees weak. “I’ll let you make it up to me.”
Rebekah tipped her head back to ascertain his meaning. She quirked an eyebrow. “How?”
“Let me ask your father for your hand, as we planned three months ago.”
On her tiptoes, she smiled and pressed her lips against his. “I’ve always wanted to marry a rebel.”
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Spark Flash Fiction 