Lexington, Kentucky

Nat could hardly remember a more fitful night of sleep than the one from which he had just awakened. Even during the war, he thought that he had managed to get at least a few minutes of deep sleep every night. Not so over the last several hours. The cause was obvious, of course: no one could sleep very well with another man shackled to himself. In Nat’s case, he was fortunate to be the captor rather than the captive.

A light rain dripped on the roof of the inn, which was certainly not the finest establishment in the growing town. But then Nat himself never needed very much in the way of accommodation and the scoundrel snoring away next to him deserved even less than he was getting.

Nat was almost amazed at how quickly he had been able to find Andrew Ryland. Mr. Tobin would be pleased about that. Lexington was no Philadelphia, but it wasn’t nearly as isolated as it ought to have been if Ryland had wanted to disappear altogether. Unlike the last man from the cock fighting pit, Ryland made no pretensions of being any kind of gentleman; it seemed that his upbringing had been much like Nat’s and that, similarly, he had made a modest life for himself. Unfortunately, it had now turned out that that life had been a house of straw and Nat had the misfortune of being the one tasked with starting to tear down the edifice and cast it into the fire. Ryland realized as much and tried to run, and when caught tried to fight. And he fought like a desperate man to whom honor meant nothing. Nat had the capability to be any ruffian’s equal in that circumstance and so here they both lay, sleeping away the last few minutes until the arrival of the coach that would head back east.

Hearing the sounds of breakfast being prepared downstairs he jerked on the chain to waken Ryland. The man snored away as if nothing had happened. Nat launched a swift kick to Ryland’s rib cage—not enough to break anything, but enough to make it hurt—and the snoring ceased immediately. Ryland woke with a groan, struggling to remember where he was.

Nat gave the chain a short, sharp tug. “You know where you are, Ryland. And before the breakfast is cold downstairs you’ll be headed back to Philadelphia.” The man only grunted in reply.

Downstairs, Nat ate heartily while Ryland pushed his food around on the plate like a pouting child. Nat thought that it said something about the man’s character that a meal that had been purchased for him out of sheer grace was not enough to stir up his appetite, let alone a hint of gratitude. Nat thanked the proprietor, paid the remainder of his bill (plus a little extra for the trouble of housing a prisoner), and then made his way with Ryland to meet the outbound coach.

Ryland seemed to have resigned himself to his fate by the time Nat shackled him to the doorpost of the coach. Nevertheless, Nat paid the coachman considerably more than the sum upon which they had originally agreed; it was a long journey back to Philadelphia and if Nat was not going to make the journey himself, he wanted to be sure that his quarry would arrive without trouble. As the door of the coach shut and the horses began to trot out of town, Nat caught one last glimpse of Ryland. The man showed no emotion, only a blank stare.

As he walked aimlessly back toward the center of town, Nat realized that a feeling of emptiness pervaded his mind as well. It wasn’t that he was unhappy working for Mr. Tobin. He wasn’t sure he could quite say what it was. Not that long ago he would have looked for the answer in the nearest tavern, under a heavy ale-induced fog.

Today, however, his wandering led him to the field on the other side of town where the local militia was drilling. It was a motley bunch, but that was not out of the ordinary. What Nat thought at least a bit peculiar, however, was the fact that only about half of the men were carrying muskets. Asking men to supply their own weapons was not unheard of, but it had been his understanding that under the new government in Kentucky, the strong preference was for the Commonwealth to supply arms in order to foster uniformity among the various divisions of the militia. The thinking seemed to be, Nat supposed, that if the citizens of Kentucky could not be supplied with regular soldiers, their defense could be made so much the better by regularity of equipment.

Nat approached a man on the edge of the field who was observing the formations intently. Venturing closer, he deduced that the man must, in fact, be the local commander of the militia.

“If you’ll pardon the interruption, sir,” Nat said, “I wonder if I can ask you a question about your men?”

“I don’t get many such questions from outsiders, Mr. . . .?” the man asked

“Nathaniel Aldridge of Philadelphia.”

“Mr. Aldridge. I don’t get many such questions, as I said, but I’m very proud of the work we’ve done here, so I’m glad to answer any questions you might have. I am Charles Smith, colonel in command of this regiment.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Colonel Smith. As I was seeing your men drill I was pondering why it might be that so many of them are unarmed. Is it not better to practice these formations while carrying the muskets that these men would have to carry on the field?”

“Only a veteran of the war would ask such a question, I think, Mr. Aldridge. Am I right?” A slight twinkle in the colonel’s eye caught Nat’s attention, signalling a genuine curiosity rather than any malignant intent.

“Correct, Colonel. I was with Virginia’s Third Regiment.”

“Ah. Yes, well some of these men are drilling without muskets because we have found ourselves quite unexpectedly to be short of arms by a substantial amount. The arms in question had been the subject of dispute with your native land of Virginia and had been held in a sort of quarantine until that case was resolved. When we went to retrieve them, however, we found that they were missing. At the present time, their whereabouts remain unknown. With the ever-present threat of raids and ambushes by the natives, the absence of those extra muskets is felt rather strongly, as I’m sure you can understand.”

“Yes, I certainly understand. Is there really nothing that can be done?”

“These men all have land to work and lives to which they must return. They have neither the time nor the resources to chase crates of muskets all over the countryside. Despite the fact that these men are responsible for the defense of this area, no one who might have the time or resources seems concerned enough to help. I see nothing for it now but to carry on as best we can and wait for the funds to be raised to replace the missing weapons, though that will take quite some time.”

It had taken almost no time at all while the colonel was talking for thoughts to begin forming in Nat’s mind. “What if I knew someone who could find the muskets for you, Colonel? Would that be beneficial?”

“Why yes, of course! Our funds are not inexhaustible, but if ever there was an expense that we should be willing to incur, it would be for the recovery of our weapons. Who would be willing to do such a thing?”

“I would, sir,” Nat said. He had never been the best at lauding his own achievements, but he pressed forward in spite of himself. “For the past several years I have been in the employ of Mr. Peter Tobin of Philadelphia as a debt collector, having previously worked as a thief taker in the same city. I have just the skills needed in your situation. I carry with me a letter from my employer if you should find such references necessary.”

“That is splendid, Mr. Aldridge, quite splendid indeed! Mr. Tobin’s company is not unknown to me since I was raised not a day’s journey from Philadelphia. Do you really think you could recover the muskets?”

Nat saw the hopeful look on the colonel’s face and knew that he had secured the job for himself, but still did not want to give any false hope. “I think there is no one more capable of recovering them than I am, Colonel. It very well may be that they have been taken beyond where we can recover them, but I will do everything I can to discover where they have gone and what can be done to get them back.”

“You would be doing us a tremendous favor, Mr. Aldridge, by undertaking this endeavor. If you will accompany me to my house after this morning’s drill is completed we can discuss your fee, expenses, and any other particulars. Would that be agreeable?”

“Yes, Colonel. Thank you.”

Nat watched the remainder of the militia’s regular routine from under the shade of a nearby oak tree. As he watched the men work on stepping in time with one another and turning at just the right moment, he pondered why he had agreed to take up this investigation. He had steady employment with Mr. Tobin and he was quite good at what he did. He was sure that Mr. Tobin would even grant him a temporary leave of absence if he had asked for it. Doing it this way, however, seemed dangerous for reasons he could not quite grasp. Yet even against the prospect of losing the best job he had found in his life, this still seemed like the right thing to do. It seemed somehow more important in the grand scheme of things. Before it was over, he only hoped he could understand why.