Archer stared coldly back at him. “Don’t play the innocent, Seth. I know damned well that losing my other two cows was your doing. Wouldn’t be surprised if you paid those two to do your dirty work, either.” Archer indicated the Smedes. “I hear breaking the legs of livestock is one of their specialities.”

Deacon’s eyes darkened. “You need to curb that tongue, my friend. That’s slander. Men have died for less.”

“You’d know about that, too, I expect. And pretty soon, Deacon, you’re going to realize I’m not your friend. So you’d best ride on. There’s naught for you here.”

Archer heard the cabin door open behind him.

Deacon rose in his saddle and tipped his hat. His expression lightened. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Morning to you, Mrs Archer.”

Beth Archer did not reply. She stood in the doorway, the checked cloth in her hands, staring at the line of riders. The flour smudge on her cheek had disappeared, Archer noticed.

Unfazed, Deacon lowered his rump and adjusted his grip on the musket. “Thing is, the Commissioners want reassurance that you’re not passing information to enemy forces.”

Archer sighed. “I’m a farmer. I don’t have any information to pass, not unless they’d like to know how many eggs my bantams have been laying.”

“Anyone refusing to swear allegiance to the Patriot government will be presumed guilty of endeavouring to subvert it.”

Archer’s eyebrows rose. “Commissioners tell you to say that, did they? Must be difficult trying to remember all those long words. Good thing you’re the spokesman and not either of those two.” Archer threw another look towards the brothers.

“There’s still time to recant,” Deacon said.

“Recant? Now you’re sounding like Pastor Slocum. Maybe his sermons are starting to have an effect after all. He’ll be pleased about that.”

“If you renounce Toryism you’ll be permitted to stay with no blemish attached to your character.”

“Well, that’s a comfort. And if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll be subject to the full penalty of the law.”

“Which means what?”

“Anyone who refuses to take the oath will be removed.”

“Removed?” Archer felt the first stirrings of genuine concern. “To where?”

“A place where they’re no longer in a position to do damage. Either to another part of the state, or else to a place of confinement.”

“You mean prison.”

“If necessary. It’s my duty to inform you that unless you’re prepared to take the oath, this land becomes forfeit, as do all goods and chattels, which will be sold off for the benefit of the Continental Congress.”

“Sold?” Archer shot back. “The hell you say! Stolen, more like! And how do you propose to do that? You going to hitch it all to a wagon? Or roll everything up and deliver it to Albany in your saddle bags? That, I’d like to see.”