Chapter 5

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        "Thank you again for this, Mister Adams."

        "Captain, I am merely doing what any man should do." John Adams walked out of the courtyard where the men were being held and stared out across the street blankly. The colonists wanted to see those men hanged, and no one knew it better than John. He also knew that Sam was going to milk the situation for all it was worth. Someone was going to pay for killing Christopher Seider, even if they had no part in it. He sighed and watched his breath disappear into the cold air. It would be another session of sleepless nights, he could see them coming, but he knew that those men needed his help. If Boston had its way, they would be hanged without trial, no questions asked. He couldn't let that happen, even if it meant stepping on Sam's toes to do it. Their faces when he entered were a mix of emotions: resignation, indignation, fear. It was a truly pitiful sight. He knew that t would take Sam no time to learn about him taking on the court case. He had eyes all over Boston, and it would take but a second for someone to find out what he was doing. He was not looking forward to having to confront his cousin, but he knew that Sam would simply not let him be.

        There was a seething murmur throughout Boston that next day. Some of the men who had not died that night had passed away that morning, some of them in the hands of Joseph Warren. Sam had burst forth from where he had been hiding and proclaimed the tyranny of the situation, which caused only further hate and discontent against the soldiers, and for the first time, Hutchinson was beginning to get afraid. This was the first real time that men had been fired upon by soldiers. The reaction was not at all what he had expected. He had hoped that it would stamp out the fires, but in the end it only made them worse. They raged, but quietly so. That was the worst part. Hutchinson knew that Sam Adams and his boys were causing trouble, but they hadn't done anything to warrant his wrath or that of the law. There was legally nothing that could be done without proper evidence, and the last thing he needed was for them to be made into martyrs.Thus, he let them do as they willed so long as they were not being destructive. What could a small band of rebels do against the strongest empire in the world?

        "Last night..." Hancock shook his head. "Bloody business, damned bloody business."

        "Blood of good Bostonian men was spilled last night, John, and I do not plan to let it go unpunished. If Hutchinson has his way, those men will never set foot on trial in Boston." Sam was eating strips of beef carefully, meticulously pulling each piece apart as he thought.

        He looked up and met Hancock's startled gaze with a look of confusion. "My god, haven't you heard, Sam?"

        "Heard what?"

        "Well... I heard something before Mister Samuel Adams! What a day, what a day!" Hancock laughed and shook his head in general disbelief before popping a piece of bread that he had rolled into a ball into his mouth, chewing it merrily as he brushed off his hands over the tavern table. "Your cousin, John, has taken up the case of those soldiers. They are going to be tried here in Boston and he was the only fool mad enough to take up their case!"

        Sam dropped the strip of beef he was pulling apart onto his plate and leaned across the table toward Hancock angrily, "Do not play games with me, John Hancock!"

        Hancock stared at Sam and then back at his plate, before looking back up and shaking his head, "I am not toying with you, Sam..." Almost before he could finish, Sam leaped up from the table and stormed out of the tavern, almost forgetting his hat on the way out. Hancock jumped up and attempted to follow him, but by the time he had cleared the doorway, Sam was gone, vanished into the streets of Boston like a thief in the night.

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