Read Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution for Free Online Page A

that afternoon from his
friends in Philadelphia.
    She searched
the floor around the bed to no avail, still wondering whether she remembered
seeing Confessions there at all.   When she straightened, fear and anger ebbed, replaced by a muddle of
emotions.   Why would an intruder steal a
book?   More perplexing, why would Will
tolerate such a book when he didn't even keep the family Bible in his
bedroom?   With titles such as Common
Sense by Thomas Paine and On Secular Authority by Martin Luther
dominating his library of revolutionary thought, a book about self-denial
looked mighty odd.
    The major question
of the night resurrected itself.   Where
was Will St. James?
    Voices out
front drew her to her bedroom window.   John trundled down from the driver's seat of the Greeleys' wagon, parked
in the muddy street.   Leaving the loaded
pistol behind, she trotted downstairs and opened the front door.   In slogged Mary the servant, bronze hair
plastered over her jacket and down her back.   "Got caught in the rain, Mrs. Barton."
    Sophie brushed
past her into the humidity of the porch.   "John, we've had a burglar!"
    "Oh, for
god's sake," said Susana, shaking water from her mobcap out of her
eyes.   "Is the villain still
there?"
    "No."
    John climbed
into the driver's seat.   "What did
he steal?"
    "One of
Father's books, I believe."
    Susana and John
burst into laughter, and Susana added, "We're exhausted and drenched,
Sophie.   Report the theft to your
precious redcoat on the morrow."   She laughed again.   "And
here's an excellent caption in your newspaper.   'Book-Stealing Scoundrel Burgles Newspaper Editor's House.'"
    John snapped
the reins.   "Heigh!   Get up!"   With a jerk and a creak, the wagon rolled through the mud and off
into the night.
    A puddle of
water had collected beneath Mary, who looked woebegone.   Sophie closed the front door and flung her
hands up.   "Well, don't just stand
there.   Get yourself into dry
clothing."
    ***
    "Mrs.
Barton!   Wake up!   Please, wake up!"
    From somewhere
below, Sophie heard pounding on a door and the hounds barking.   She fended Mary's hands off her shoulders
and bolted upright, trying to shake the fuzzies from her head.
    Terror writhed
across Mary's face by candlelight.   "There's two Spaniards at the back door calling for your
father.   We'll be ravished and murdered!   By Spaniards !"
    Spaniards.   Sophie shoved the girl aside and climbed out
of bed.   "Take hold of your
wits.   Have you ever fired a
pistol?"
    "Wh-what?   You want me to sh-shoot them?"
    "Never
mind.   Just stay out of my
way."   Flinging a shawl over her
shift, she grabbed the pistol and Mary's lantern.   After verifying that Will wasn't in bed, she padded downstairs
ahead of her shivering servant.
    With the pistol
hid behind her, she hung the lantern beside the back door and opened it.   In the yard, Achilles and Perseus growled at
two Spaniards who stood shoulder-to-shoulder on her step.   The men's glowers transformed into leers at
the sight of her, and her fingers flexed on the butt of the pistol.   "For what purpose do you interrupt our
sleep?"
    The man on her
right murmured to his partner, " La hija del Lobo ."   The daughter of the Wolf.   The Wolf.   Was that some sort of alias for Will?
    A lie wouldn't
hurt.   Her voice sliced the damp night
air.   "Speak English, for I
understand no Spanish."
    The smile of
the other man broadened.   He muttered to
his companion, " Es muy bonita ," before addressing her.   " Señora , we have urgent business
with Señor Will St. James."
    "It will
wait until the morrow.   Begone."   When she shoved
the door with her foot, his hand blocked it from closing.   She whipped out the pistol, cocked it fully,
and leveled the barrel at his nose, hoping he couldn't see her heart pounding
in her throat.   Both Spaniards' eyes
bulged in shock.   "Away, or I'll
blow someone's miserable brains from here to Madrid."
    They backed
from the door,