Midnight Rider: Chapters 1–5

Hot wind blew through the open casement window.

There were fleeting visions of Aunt Phoebe standing over the bed.

Hannah knew about the resurrection, for Mama, who came from a Puritan background, had diligently read the Scriptures with her.

Startled, the boy almost slipped off, and he yanked the reins angrily.

“Ah, perhaps that’s why the horse has been so skittish. He misses you. He hasn’t been eating much either.”

So this was why Aunt Phoebe had explicitly told her not to speak with the new family that moved into that farm, Hannah realized angrily. Aunt Phoebe didn’t want her to know that Promise was somewhere in Salem.

Hannah stifled a laugh, then said solemnly, “Aunt Phoebe was good to us when we were sick. She tells me often how”—Hannah wrinkled up her nose and mimicked her aunt’s self-righteous speech—"'I’ve given up everything to help you and your mother! My whole life has changed. And not for the better, I might add.’"

Hannah stifled a laugh, then said solemnly, “Aunt Phoebe was good to us when we were sick. She tells me often how”—Hannah wrinkled up her nose and mimicked her aunt’s self-righteous speech—"'I’ve given up everything to help you and your mother! My whole life has changed. And not for the better, I might add.’”

Promise nuzzled his soft nose into Hannah’s face and nickered softly.

“Everyone’s heard how Bostonians masqueraded as Mohawk Indians and dumped all the tea into the harbor rather than be taxed on it,” Hannah broke in.

Hannah had heard Aunt Phoebe speak with loathing of Whigs and Patriots.

“So this is what you’ve been up to, you ungrateful child! I saw you astride that horse with your skirt up and bare legs showing!”

An ivory brush on the bureau still held wisps of her mother’s raven hair, and on a little table by the window was her hornbook.

“I’ve heard you impersonate people in your brazen and disrespectful way. And don’t go riding on horses with your skirt up above your knees. A proper young woman would only ride sidesaddle.”

The village was quiet, and the August sun was hot and oppressive.

Hannah imitated Aunt Phoebe’s berating words.

The horse nuzzled her neck and whinnied softly as if he knew they were saying good-bye.

“She’s old enough to be indentured,” Lydia snapped defensively. “I would have never arranged this if she were under fourteen! We need someone who is old enough to work.”

The contract is between Miss Phoebe Andrews, guardian of Hannah Andrews, a niece and minor destitute orphan having no estate for her maintenance and education...
Hannah looked up. “Destitute? Having no estate? Does that mean I have no money?”

“Steal. Lie. Shirk your duties,” Miss Lydia said sourly.

“This is all well and good for the Gage household and for Aunt Phoebe, but what advantage is it to me?”
“Such impertinence!”

Hannah continued, this time reading aloud: "'And Lydia Perkins, as household overseer for Governor Gage, does hereby promise and agree to teach and instruct the said Hannah Andrews or cause her to be taught and instructed in the art and business of housekeeping as well as in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and to well and faithfully provide sufficient meat, drink, clothing, lodging, and all other necessaries during the seven years of Hannah Andrews’s servitude.'"

“You see?” Miss Lydia said haughtily. "You will be well provided for. And you will gain an education by working in the Gages’ household.”

As they came closer to the bridge that crossed the North River, Miss Lydia pointed to a cannon on a grassy knoll.

She opened the muslin and found slices of plum cake, which she offered to the women in the carriage.

She listened for a time as Lydia chatted idly to Catherine about Mrs. Gage.

Large frigates and longboats lined the harbor and bobbed on the blue waves.

She smelled the open sea, and she could see the roofs of houses and the spires of churches on the other shore.

When the woman gave her a contemptuous stare, Hannah gazed innocently at the church spires in the distance.

A large wooden fish hung outside a market; a plumed pen identified a calligrapher; a horseshoe hung over the door of a barn where a blacksmith was shoeing a bay mare.

On the peak of a stately building a shiny weather vane in the shape of a grasshopper glistened in the late afternoon sun.

Hannah raised her eyes to the immense cupola, where a gilded weather vane adorned the roof.

A tall, gangly boy was standing behind her, his hands on his hips and his dark eyes filled with anger.

Hannah placed her bag on the other bed, opened it, and removed a plain everyday dress and two extra pinafore aprons.

Hannah removed the dusty calico dress she was wearing, then washed her face and hands in water she poured into a bowl from one of the china pitchers.

Each parchment page held a pressed flower with a handwritten inscription beneath it.

On one wall was a large portrait of an exotically beautiful woman reclining on a brocaded chair.

Both portraits were encased in gilded frames.

A girl was staring defiantly at Hannah.

Hannah instinctively pulled a strand of hair from under her cap and arranged it over her cheek.