North Carolina, 1771
Robert Boothe has spent the last four years leading the tyrant-hating Regulators in standing against North Carolina’s corrupt British government. Just being an unlicensed dissenter preacher is enough to make Robert a target, but he refuses to back down from his conscience. Aside from a sympathetic court justice, the village of Ayen Ford has no other champion for its poor and defenseless.
Then Charles Drake, emissary of His Excellency William Tryon, comes to town with one ambition: winning the governor’s favor, no matter what it takes. And Robert Boothe just might be his last chance.
All Robert wants is a safe place for his little Baptist church to live and worship God. But the established church wants him to shut up. The governor’s men want him dead. And that safe place is farther and farther away.
You can run, but you can’t hide . . .
EXCERPT
Chapter 12
Robert turned away from the stream and said, “Here’s the plan, boys. We get back to Ayen Ford, we don’t go in quietly. We ride in on the main road in broad daylight, and we let Drake see every move we make. It may be risky, but he can’t arrest all of us at once, and it’s time we showed him what he’s up against.” Saul McBraden said,“Now you’re talking my language.” Robert smiled. Saul’s bravado was sometimes dangerous, but at the right time it became an asset. This was about to be one of those times. “Then all we’ll do is keep Drake on edge. Watch him every minute we can, and let him know it. You boys can do that on your own even if they shore up the jail, lock me up again, and throw away the key.” “Out of curiosity,” Alec Perry drawled, “what did they lock you up for this time?” “Preaching without a license. Officially, that is.” “Officially is never the real reason,” Alec said. “Unofficially, they were making a point. I say that because there was no other cause for Drake to make the arrest in front of my church on a Sunday morning.” “I’m not saying I’m much for one set of doctrine over another,” Alec said, “but that sticks in my craw. Didn’t his mama teach him any reverence a’tall?” “A man like Drake don’t have a mama,” Ethan Hardy said. “He just sorta crawls out of a dark hole somewhere and there he is.” “I’m going to enjoy making this gent nervous,” Alec said. One glance at Alec’s slitted eyes and Robert believed him.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jayna Baas (pronounced as in “baa, baa, black sheep”) lives in northern Michigan with a great family of real people and the family of pretend people who live in her head. (Yes, she does know her characters are not real. No, she does not want you to tell them she said so.) She is notorious for working on several projects at once and writing her series in the wrong order. She hones her craft amid loud southern gospel music and an em barrassing number of composition books, and is convinced God wired her to write—she can’t not write, even though she believes German writer Thomas Mann was correct in saying, “A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than for other people.” She enjoys writing and reading in a wide range of genres, but her favorite story is this: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)
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