Once again, Robyn was darting about the streets of Boston. A basket swung from her arm. The girl had packed several loaves of her sweet bread and a blanket inside, and she also had persuaded Ben to write an encouraging note. The newspaper printer would undoubtedly wonder at the random visit, but she didn’t think he would complain. Carefully, she opened the door and slipped inside.
A guard stopped her just inside the door. “And what are you doing here, Miss? This isn’t a place for a lass,” he said.
Robyn preformed a little curtsy. “A friend of my father’s has been put in prison, kind sir.” Smiling prettily, she continued, “So, I am bringing him a blanket and a few loaves of my special bread.”
The guard eyed her for a second as if wondering she could cause a jail break. Finally, he said, “I will have to ask Agent Chaplen, Miss. He’s taken charge of the jail for the time being.”
“Ask me what?” The agent in question had appeared behind the guard.
Grinning broadly, Robyn waved to him. “Mr. Chaplen! How are you? Did you break your fast? I’m sorry I did not get up in time to serve you.”
The expression on his face told the girl that he was not as happy to see her as she pretended to be seeing him.
“Um, yes, Miss Rivers, I did-”
“Oh, that’s good, Mr. Chaplen.”
“It’s ‘agent,’ Miss R-”
“Of course, of course, Agent Chambers. I was just bringing a basket to a friend of my father’s--he’s in prison, you understand--and this kind gentleman said he needs your permission--”
“The girl has my permission,” Chaplen interrupted, a vein throbbing in his temple. “If you would come with me,” he said to Robyn as he gestured inside.
Grinning idiotically, she followed the agent. It smelled of rot inside and was very filthy. Robyn‘s eyes darted around, counting the number of guards and looking for possible hiding places. She counted the windows and doors. As she gazed around, the girl talked Chaplen‘s ear off. “His name is Peter Johnson. He is a newspaper printer--or was I suppose.”
Rubbing his temples, Agent Chaplen turned towards a cell with several men inside. “Johnson,” he called. “This lass has brought you some food.”
As the agent opened the door, a man with a beard starting to grow on his face moved towards it. Chaplen followings her, the girl had stepped inside. She smiled broadly and dipped a curtsy. “I am Robyn Rivers, Mr. Johnson.”
A smile slid across the printer’s face. “David River’s girl, eh?” Robyn nodded and the man’s grin grew wider.” Is he doing alright after the Shadow Fox helped him out?” he asked, shooting a smirk at Chaplen.
“Oh yes, indeed, sir. He most certainly is. He and my mother are getting along fine.”
Chaplen cleared his throat loudly. Sighing, Robyn reached into the basket and handed Peter Johnson the bread and blanket. “I’ve made you two loaves of my sweetbread and brought a blanket.”
Peter smiled. “Thank ye, lass.”
Robyn slipped out of the cell and the agent closed the door. As he locked it, she glanced around. A cell at the end of the hall caught her attention. Stern faced, Two soldiers stood guard in front of it. Catching sight of the prisoner they were guarding, she couldn’t help gasping. The muddy, blood-stained face of a boy no more than one year older than Ben looked back at her from behind the bars. His red uniform was shredded and dirty. He smiled pitifully, and his eyes seemed to plead for help.
Without thinking, Robyn marched forward with a determined air. Instead of barring her way, the two men stepped aside and allowed her to pass. The girl pulled the last loaf out of her basket. Smiling kindly, she passed it through the bars. “I was saving this for my brother,” She explained, although it wasn’t true. “I think you need it more than he does.”
He took it from her with a grateful smile. “Thank you, miss.”
His voice was weak and shook slightly. He was probably being starved. The Redcoats showed no kindness to deserters.
Robyn reached forward and grasped his free hand. She smiled warmly as he glanced at the piece of paper she had slipped into his hand. It had a small black fox sketched onto it. He lifted his eyebrows slightly, and the girl winked.
Her expression suddenly turning silly, she asked, “Now what is you name, young sir?”
“George Duncan, miss.”
“Well, Mr. Duncan, that sweetbread is homemade by myself and you enjoy that, alright? “
He seemed confused, but he nodded. “Yes, Ma’am, I will.”
She smiled on more time then spun on her heel and marched away. After a minute, she asked, “Why is there such a young boy in the jail, Mr. Chaplen? He’s barely older than Ben.”
“That boy deserted from the army, Miss Rivers. The punishment for that is death.”
“But he’s so young. Poor thing. I think I’ll make him some more food tomorrow.”
Chaplen nodded and opened the door for her. No sooner had she walked into the sunlight, than the agent had closed the door. Apparently he didn’t want to listen to her idle chatter any more. Robyn strode home with a smile on her face. She had a plan.
-----
Good grief. I just realized EVERYBODY'S name in this book is "George." Heh.
Anywho, I'm posting today because tomorrow is going to be insane as I have a math test. Ick.
So, enjoy! I likes the next chapter, oh yes.
^.^ <---Happy Gypsy face.
C.P. out!
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