“Ye canna keep politics secret, Sassenach,” he’d told me. “Even if they wanted to—and they mostly don’t want to—they canna hold their tongues or disguise what they think.”

“What they think in terms of political principle, or what they think of their neighbors’ political principles?” I asked, having caught the echoes of these discussions from the women who formed the major part of my pastoral Sunday surgery.

He laughed, but not with a lot of humor in it.

“If they tell ye what their neighbor thinks, Sassenach, it doesna take much mind reading to ken what they think.”

“Do you think they know what you’re thinking?” I asked, curious. He shrugged.

“If they don’t, they soon will.”

TWO WEEKS LATER, when Captain Cunningham had finished the final prayer, but before he could dismiss his congregation, Jamie rose to his feet and asked the captain’s permission to address the people.

I saw Elspeth Cunningham’s back—always straight as a pine sapling—go rigid, the black feathers on her churchgoing hat quivering in warning. Still, the captain didn’t have much choice, and with a fair assumption of graciousness, he stepped back and gestured Jamie to take the floor.

“Good morn to ye all,” he said, with a bow to the congregation. “And I ask your pardon—and Captain Cunningham’s”—another bow—“for needing to disturb your peace of mind on a Sunday. But I’ve had a wee note this week that’s disturbed my own peace of mind considerably, and I hope ye’ll give me the opportunity to share it with ye.”

A murmur of agreement, puzzlement, and interest passed through the room. Along with a subterranean rumble, barely felt, of apprehension.

Jamie reached into his coat and removed a folded note, with a broken candle-wax seal that had seeped grease into the paper, so that the shadows of words showed through as he unfolded it. He put on his spectacles and read it aloud.

“Mr. Fraser—

I take the Liberty of telling you I have had Word that General Gates attacked the Forces of Lord Cornwallis near Camden and suffered a Great Defeat, including the lamentable Death of Major General De Kalb. With the retreat of Gates’s Forces, South Carolina is abandoned to the Enemy. Meanwhile, I hear that additional Troops are being sent North from Florida to support the Occupation of Savannah. Such News is alarming, but I am alarmed further to hear from some Friends that General Clinton plans to attack the Backcountry by other, more insidious Means. He proposes to send Agents among us, to solicit, enlist, and arm Loyalists and by so doing, to raise a large Militia, supported by the regular Army, to attack and subdue any Hint of Rebellion in the Mountains of Tennessee and the Carolinas.

It is my firm Belief that this is no idle Rumor, and I will send you various Proofs as they come into my hands. Therefore …”