morning darkness. A half-dozen cows were being paraded by a fellow up the road. Most remarkable of all, their progress was entirely silent.
Jake soon realized why — the animal’s feet had been clothed in thick, matted boots. He went and woke van Clynne, wondering what sort of illness had infected the local citizenry or their animals.
“ It’s not sickness at all,” explained the Dutchman in between hushed grievances at being roused from a beautiful dream of his family’s former estate. “The man must be one of the cattle thieves who’s been ravaging the valley. Between the speculators and these villains, cow bone has become more dear than a lion’s whiskers.”
Van Clynne exaggerated, but not as much as usual. He also insisted that, no matter how pressing their other mission, this thief must be apprehended — half of those cows surely belonged to good Dutch families and were intended for the nearby Continental Army barracks.
Even though it was highly unlikely he’d be traveling this early, Jake was loathe to divert his attention from Herstraw. Van Clynne ceased to argue and began shadowing the cattle thief himself. Reluctantly, Jake tagged along, vowing to turn back the moment the silent parade of cows took a detour that made it impossible to see the highway.
Fortunately, his vow was never put to the test. The thief herded the animals into a yard before a barn only a few hundred yards from the churchyard and very close to the road. As van Clynne ran off to alert the local sheriff, Jake snuck down to keep an eye on the thief.
A confederate was waiting with a lantern at the door, and together the two men congratulated themselves on finding so many fine beasts.
“ I’ll get them ready inside,” said the confederate. “You stand guard and wait for Cardington.”
“ We’ve got only an hour if we’re to be out of here when the sun dawns,” said the thief who had led the parade.
“ Just watch outside while I do my business.”
A small stream ran a few yards from the edge of the building. Jake climbed down the embankment and returned with handful of smooth pebbles. It took a few tosses against the side of the barn for the thief to realize the light noises were not coming from within. He picked up a musket and went to investigate.
A quick punch across the face dispatched him to Sleep’s bedchamber. Jake appropriated the fellow’s belt and trussed him with it. Then he returned to the front to wait for the sheriff and van Clynne to return.
And there they would undoubtedly have found him, had he not heard a wagon approaching down the highway at high speed. Jake, assuming it was Herstraw, cursed his luck and ducked back around the side of the barn. He was just about to run back for his horse, still tethered in the churchyard, when the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the barn. A man dressed in a butcher’s smock left the reins and ran to the door.
“ It’s me, Cardington!” yelled the man. “Open the door, Bulfinch. Quickly!”
“ Where’s Griffith?” asked the man inside, opening up.
“ Damned if I know.”
“ Can’t be trusted to do anything. We’ll dock half his share,” said the thief, hurrying the man and wagon inside.
Having gotten himself involved, Jake was reluctant to let the thieves succeed in butchering the animals before van Clynne and the sheriff arrived. He decided to chance a quick sneak into the barn so he could catch the butchers before they quite go red-handed. Providence, after all, must have placed him in the churchyard at the moment the villain passed for a reason.
The door was locked against a frontal assault. The only other opening that presented itself was a loft window on the second floor. Getting to it required several running jumps — noisy running jumps at that, though the sound of the animals inside drowned them out.
In order to make the final leap, Jake had to leave the guard’s musket outside, and thus had only a single pistol in his belt, and his knives, when he climbed into the loft. He had, at least, plenty of cover to work with, as the entire interior light was supplied by a pair of lanterns on the ground floor.
The two butchers were preparing their first victim as Jake crept to the edge of the balcony. But before he could map an attack, there was a loud knock on the door, and the sheriff ordered the men inside to cease and desist.
“ We’ll give him a bit of a surprise,” said Bulfinch, dropping the ax he had taken to slaughter the cow. He picked up a gun from the wagon as the lights were doused.
Feeling his way along the railing, Jake discovered a rope hanging off the ledge. He whisked it up as the two thieves prepared their ambush.
“ Come on in, Sheriff,” called Bulfinch. “The door’s open.”
The sheriff was not the fool the thieves took him for, using a long stick to prod open the door. He ducked as it swung back and two guns fired in rapid succession
Ducking was wise but unnecessary, for the shots had been fired at Jake’s prodding. His encouragement, actually, was accomplished by the heels of his boots — he swung from the rafters into both men the moment the door creaked open and gave him enough light to see by. Archangel Michael did not look so bold when he swing down with the heavenly hosts, nor was Satan as surprised as the two cattle thieves, who collapsed backward in a heap and were easily apprehended by the sheriff, Lars Skinner.
Jake and van Clynne took an early breakfast with Lar’s thankful wife, Willa, who happened to own one of the purloined cows. Her hospitality was all the more welcoming as her house was located just southeast of the highway fork, which meant that no matter where Herstraw had stayed, he would have to pass by.
Her apple pie was also among the best Jake had ever tasted.
“ An old Dutch recipe,” whispered van Clynne as the woman went for more coffee. “I tell you, Dutch housewives are the best.”
“ What are you saying behind my back, Claus van Clynne?” demanded the woman, returning.
“ A compliment, surely,” said van Clynne.
“ As a matter of fact, I have a crow to pick with you,” said Mrs. Skinner.
The squire put up his hand, but it did not stem the attack. Besides being the sheriff, Mr. Skinner and his wife made some pewter items, which van Clynne occasionally endeavored to sell for them. In Dutch — and very sharp Dutch at that — Mrs. Skinner lambasted him for having been slow to pay for his last consignment, which she had subsequently learned had sold in half the time van Clynne had intimated.
An exaggeration, he said.
Hardly, retorted Mrs. Skinner, citing her evidence.
Amused, Jake concentrated on his pie. Apples were heaped nearly eight inches tall between the thick crusts. A trace of maple sugar sweetened each bit. And even though it would have been very expensive, Jake swore there was a hint of cinnamon inside.
As the argument continued, the Dutchman gradually shifted into his cajoling mode, assuring the housewife that there had been no delay, and that if there had been a delay, the pause of a few days once way or another was never a problem when friends were involved, and above all, it was simply a misunderstanding.
Mrs. Skinner folded her arms and suggested that perhaps the sheriff would have another opinion when he returned home. Van Clynne quickly adopted a new gambit.
“ Alas, we have urgent business on the road,” he said. “But before I leave, I would like to purchase a bottle of your elixir.”
“ I never sell that! I give it to friends for free.”
“ Well, I though from the way you were carrying on — “
“ You should be ashamed of yourself, Claus van Clynne. Implying that we are less than friends. My great- grandparents came to America with your great-grandparents.”
Van Clynne put on a contrite look — and winked at Jake as Mrs. Skinner disappeared into the back. She returned presently with a small, milky-white-colored bottle. Van Clynne immediately began singing her praises.
“ You do not often find women such as Willa Skinner!” he declared. “Even the wilden trek to her door.”
“ We haven’t had Indians on this land for ten years,” said the housewife. “And if I saw one, I’d shoot him.”
“ My friend is an apothecary,” van Clynne told her. He spoke in a stage whisper Jake was obviously supposed to overhear. “Let us see if perhaps we can work an arrangement that will make you rich.”
