“Nor I. I wish I never had, for I know not what I can do.”

“I have no doubt you will do what you must.”

“And what is that?”

“You cannot leave that lady and her children at the hands of that beast.”

“There is nothing I can do for her. I can offer her no refuge, and she would not take it were I capable. Imagine the damage to her reputation. No one will care what Pearson has done, only that his wife has left him.”

To this she said nothing, as though I were too foolish to engage seriously.

I thought it a good idea to raise another subject. “You mentioned the other night that you know Duer. Do you understand the nature of his business connections to Pearson?”

“No, but I do not know him well. It is, however, possible that it may have something to do with the Million Bank. That is one of Duer’s new ventures, and it takes up much of his time at present.”

“The Million Bank. Do you mean Pearson is going to invest in it?”

“Very likely,” said Mrs. Maycott.

“So he will take the money he borrowed from the Bank of the United States to help launch a rival bank?”

“It is possible,” she said. “Why do you care? You said before that you work for Hamilton, but I know that’s not true. You were merely attempting to rouse Mr. Pearson. And yet I cannot help but wonder if you are a supporter of Hamilton and his bank.”

“You sound so astonished. Would it trouble you if I were?”

“We live in astonishing times,” she said, and her tone suggested she was not answering my question at all, but one she wished I had asked. “We have witnessed the most remarkable revolution the world has ever known, and the establishment of a republican government that has the chance to be the glory of mankind. How can I not be troubled by something that threatens to undermine our national good?”

“You will forgive me if I suspect your interest runs deeper than mere admiration for the cause of the nation.”

“Then you are mistaken. I care about nothing so deeply as the nation. It is for that reason I am suspicious of Hamilton, who, I believe, does not love republican government. I believe he favors a British system, one of monarchy and corruption.”

“I have heard such things before, and while I do not doubt that Hamilton is overly fond of the British system, I have seen no evidence that this fondness represents a threat to ours.”

“This government was formed as a means of confederating the several states,” she said, “but Hamilton uses his influence to strengthen the federal seat at every turn. States must now bow before their masters in Philadelphia.”

Here was a much different conversation than that which I would have chosen. I could not yet guess what Mrs. Maycott was, nor how to measure her interest in these things. I believed she knew something, but I did not see the value of rehashing the debate from several years past on the validity of the new Constitution “Yes, this is the old anti-Federalist argument, and I know well its merits, but only time can tell which side is correct, and I am disinclined to rail against the federal government until it has tried the experiment. The anti-Federalists like to rage against the danger of centralized power, but I’ve seen no evidence of any harm coming from it.”

“What say you then to Hamilton ’s whiskey excise, which has unduly oppressed poor farmers, forcing them into debt and ruin that he might fund his speculative projects?”

The whiskey excise again. “I wish you would speak plainly. What is this to you?”

“I am a patriot. That is all you need to know. I love my country, and I know you do. I do not think Hamilton does. I only ask that you be open to that possibility.”

I though of Mr. Reynolds as she said this, and Hamilton ’s secretive dealings with him. Hamilton was not all he seemed, that much was certain, but I did not believe him to be the enemy of the nation that the Jeffersonians-and apparently Mrs. Maycott-painted him. “I am open to all possibilities,” I said at last.

“That is why I trust you. Oh, here we are at your house.”

How convenient-particularly as I had not told her where I lived.

I opened the door on my side of the coach. “I thank you for the ride, but I must say something. I can’t guess the nature of your involvement in these matters, and I do not expect you to tell me. I can only say that if you know anything of import, I hope you will let me know.”

She smiled at me, the glowing glory of her lips illuminated by the streetlight. “You must not suspect me of all people, Captain Saunders. I believe that as of this moment I am the best friend you have.”

Joan Maycott

Spring 1791

The following afternoon, Mr. Dalton and Jericho Richmond gathered in the sitting room of Mr. Skye’s house. Our host had prepared a meal of pigeon and dumplings, and though I ate but little I took more than my share of whiskey. Even so, I could not feel its effect. Only a few days before, I had been a grieving widow, a victim who had lost everything. I had, since then, done so much. Why could I not achieve things seemingly impossible? I had done so already.

I was tired, having had so little sleep, and my hand was cramped from writing past the dawn. After leaving the main house I’d gone to find Ruth, who would never again be called Lactilla. She, at my request, gathered together the other slaves. With quill and ink and Tindall’s heavy paper, I’d written out individual false traveling papers, identifying them by names and description as free Negroes. To each I’d given fifty dollars. It was no small portion of the wealth I’d taken from Tindall, but I could hardly have sent them off into the world penniless. I’d taken away their master and, unwilling to bear the burden of sending them off into a horrifying unknown, I had instead taken on the burden of helping to make for each a better life. At least a freer one.

Now, though I had not slept the previous night, I was fully awake with the friends who had helped to shape my life here in the West. The three men could talk about but one thing. Word had spread throughout the settlement, probably throughout the four counties, that Colonel Holt Tindall had hanged himself. No one had yet heard of Phineas’s confession, and perhaps no one had troubled themselves to observe the blow upon Tindall’s skull. I believed there would be discoveries yet to come, but not yet, and I hoped I might use them to advantage.

“It’s hard to believe,” Skye said, “that a man like that would suddenly take upon himself a conscience.” He was bent forward in his chair, holding his glass of whiskey between the palms of both hands, and he struck me as a man hunkered down upon the fringes of a battlefield. Great and cataclysmic things were coming, and some part of him knew it.

“I don’t believe him a man apt to take his own life,” Dalton said. “There must have been something else-a painful illness, perhaps, that would kill him in the end. This might’ve been his way of beating the thing. It would be more like the old bastard.”

“Something will come out,” said Jericho. “You may depend upon it.” And now he looked at me, hard and cold. He knew something, or suspected it, which I did not like. I wished the information to be mine alone to control.

It was time to speak. “Tindall did not hang himself,” I said. “He was executed for what he did to Andrew. I could not depend upon the law, and so I depended upon myself.”

All three men stared at me.

“Come now,” said Dalton. “You don’t expect me to believe a woman was capable of forcing Tindall to put a noose around his neck, let alone hoisting him up over the rafters? I’ll wager you don’t know how to tie a noose.”

I did not know how to tie a noose, but as for the other, I did not know why it was so unthinkable. Phineas was not so much larger than I, and he had done it all. If I were a man, the question would not have been raised. Yet I saw no reason to pursue this now. There might be much to be gained if I could make them see how others liked to aid me. “The boy, Phineas, helped me.”