Wanton Splendor

by Bobbi Smith

  "Nothing, sir. He hasn't been here... yet."

  "Mr. Kingsford, if Fletcher shows up here you would do well to turn him over to the authorities. He is a wanted man."

  "Yes, sir," Mark answered, grateful that Christopher hadn't returned as yet.

  When they had gone, Mark reassured his servants that all was well and sent them on to bed before indulging himself in a stiff drink. It was going to be a long night waiting up for Christopher.

  Christopher took Mark's carriage on his return trip to the hotel and checked out in record time. He was so intent on getting back to Mark's that he didn't notice the rider following him. Worried thoughts of Katie in trouble assailed him. She needed him and there was no way he could get to her before tomorrow. He was stranded in New Orleans.

  As he turned down Mark's private, darkly-shadowed street the shot rang out. The fiery projectile exploded through his shoulder, knocking him sideways in the driver's seat.

  Christopher lay stunned by the force of the blow. His breathing was labored as he tried to figure out whore the shot had come from. Blood poured freely from the raw wound and he tried in vain to staunch the flow. He could hear footsteps running toward him and he knew that he had to get away. Struggling awkwardly to right himself, he grabbed the reins and urged the horse forward. When he'd gained a lead on his assailant, he slowed the carriage long enough so that he could climb out and then slapped the horse into action once more.

  With slow uncoordinated movements, he stumbled into a dark alley. Dizzy and in great pain, he fell. As the blackness of unconsciousness flooded through him, he thought of Katie and wished sadly that they could have had more time to build a life together.

  Mark was pacing the parlor when the sound of the single gunshot sent him running to the window. When he couldn't see anything, he threw open the front door and rushed outside.

  The fog was thick and visibility was severely limited. Moving quietly through the shadows, he paused only momentarily as the night breeze parted the mist and revealed his own carriage, driverless, standing idly some distance down the street.

  Breaking into a run, he grabbed the horse's rein and led it back to the front of the townhouse. It was then as he walked back to check the seat that he discovered blood on the floor of the vehicle.

  Mark ran back inside and woke John, one of his servants.

  "What's happened, Mastah Mark?" John asked.

  "I don't know, John. It looks like Christopher has been shot, but I don't know where he is..." Mark looked around worriedly. "Well have to look for him. I'm sure he's hurt, but first let's get rid of this carriage before the patrollers come back."

  "Yes, suh," John said as he took charge of the horse and vehicle.

  "I'll wait for you inside. Then we can go together."

  In a few short minutes, John was back, after having cleaned the carriage of traces of blood.

  They began their search at the end of the street, checking all the dark corners and any place where a wounded man might crawl to hide himself. It was almost an hour later before they found him, unconscious in the narrow alley. Mark sent John back to get the enclosed carriage and when he returned they carefully laid him inside on the floor and drove off toward Rampart Street.

  Cherie's house was the only place Mark could think of where Christopher would be safe. No patrollers would ever think of looking there for him.

  Cherie looked frightened when she answered her door a short time later.

  "Who is it?"

  "It's me, Mark," he spoke softly. "I'm in trouble and I need your help."

  "Come in." She opened the door for him and gasped when she saw who they were carrying.

  "What's happened?"

  "From what I've been told, Christopher is part of the Underground Railroad and the patrollers have just found out. They're after him and from the looks of things they almost got him."

  "Take him upstairs. I'll send for the doctor right away."

  "Do you think that's wise?"

  "Of course. Dr. Lucien has helped his share of runaways before. We can trust him."

  "Thank you, Cherie."

  "You're welcome, Mark. Now, let's see what we can do for Christopher."

  When they got him upstairs and into bed, Mark stripped off his jacket and shirt to reveal the raw, bloody wound in his shoulder.

  "It looks bad. He's lost so much blood," Mark told her.

  "There's not much more we can do without the doctor. We'll just have to hope that he hurries."

  It was almost an hour before John returned with Dr. Lucien in tow.

  "Miss Ddabarre, Mr. Kingsford. John, here, tells me someone's been shot?"

  "My sister's husband. He was ambushed."

  "Where is he?"

  "Upstairs... Follow me," Cherie said.

  Cherie and Mark led the way up to the bedroom and ushered the doctor inside. If anything, Christopher looked worse. His coloring was pale-almost deathlyand his features seemed sharpened by his pain.

  He didn't stir as the doctor cut away the makeshift bandage Mark had applied. His examination took long minutes and Mark and Cherie waited at the foot of the bed, anxious and worried.

  Mark knew he would have to send word to Katie as soon as he knew something positive. He didn't know ex actly what problems she was having at Greenwood, but it couldn't possibly be more important than Chris topher's being shot.

  "I'm afraid the bullet didn't pass through. It seems to be lodged against the bone and I'm going to have to probe for it."

  "Can I help?" Mark offered.

  "I may need you to help hold him down ...It may take you and John both."

  "I'll get him."

  Mark went in search of his servants while Cherie went to wait in the parlor. The physician was preparing for surgery when they returned. Dr. Lucien had his shirt sleeves rolled up and was washing his hands.

  "He may not feel this at all, but I can't be sure. I'll need one of you on each side," he explained as he readied his instruments. "And when I tell you don't let him move-I mean it!"

  "Yes, doctor," they replied taking their places and waiting for orders of what to do.

  With skillful precision, Dr. Lucien explored the wound drawing moans of protest from Christopher as he twisted violently against the restraining hands, trying to avoid the pain. On his third attempt to extract the bullet, Dr. Lucien succeeded and he quickly pressed a cloth to the ragged injury to stop the flow of fresh, bright blood.

  "It's out," he confirmed, as he removed the cloth and sterilized the raw flesh.

  Mark dismissed John and returned to Christopher's side as the doctor finished wrapping his shoulder.

  "Will he be all right?" Mark asked anxiously.

  "If there's no infection, he should be fine in a few weeks. But he's going to be very weak for a while ...he's lost a lot of blood."

  "Iknow."

  "Just keep him quiet."

  "Will he regain consciousness soon?"

  "Any time now. I'll leave some laudanum with you just in case he needs a pain killer. And I'll check back with you tomorrow."

  "Thank you, doctor."

  Mark showed him out and then, before returning to Christopher's side, he wrote a note to Katie telling her that there was an emergency and that she should come to New Orleans at once.

  The sun was rising as he finished the short letter and Cherie sent one of her servants on the trip to deliver the missive to Greenwood and bring Katie back.

  After Cherie retired to her room to get a few hours' rest, Mark went back to Christopher's side. Entering the master bedroom quietly, he pulled a chair near the bed and sat down, waiting patiently for him to stir.

  "Katie..." Christopher's voice was dry and hoarse and shook Mark from his half-sleep.

  "Christopher!" Mark came quickly awake.

  "Where's Katie? I've got to get her away..." He tried to sit up but was forced to fall back against the pillows.

  "Christopher, it's me, Mark. You're safe. You're here with me. Relax..."
he tried to console him.

  "Mark?" Christopher tried to focus on him. "Don't you see-they know. I've got to get to Katie... She's not safe. We've got to hide..."

  "Christopher..." Mark's voice was stern, trying to calm him. "You're safe, please, take it easy..."

  He eyed Mark warily. "Where am I?"

  "At Cherie's house. It was the safest place I could think of."

  He managed a small nod. "You know?"

  "Yes. Right after you left, the patrollers showed up looking for you..."

  Christopher closed his eyes wearily, "Someone's got to warn Katie... they'll be looking for me everywhere."

  "I know; that's why I can't stay here. They may come back to my place again looking for you and I want to be there."

  Christopher looked at him again. "Will you send word to Katie?"

  "I already have. Now you just rest. I'll be back as soon as I can get away."

  "Thanks, Mark."

  Mark gave him a reassuring smile before heading back home.

  It was much later that morning when Dr. Lucien returned, "How's he doing?"

  "He started bleeding again, but I think it's under control now," Cherie told him.

  "I'd better check."

  The doctor followed her to the bedroom and found Christopher awake.

  "Mr. Fletcher, I'm Dr. Lucien."

  Christopher studied him seriously before speaking, "Doctor, thank you for all you've done for me."

  "You're welcome. And, by the way, Mark and Cherie have told me everything and you have nothing to fear from me. I have often helped Robert Adams when the fugitives are injured coming downriver."

  Some of the tenseness seemed to drain from him as he closed his eyes.

  "I've got to rebandage your wound. It may hurt but it's necessary to prevent further bleeding."

  "All right," he agreed, his voice a strained whisper. "I'll hold steady for you."

  And he held perfectly still while the physician cleaned and dressed his shoulder.

  "How bad is it?"

  "You're weak from the blood loss, but I think two weeks of bedrest should have you back on your feet."

  "I don't have two weeks!" Christopher argued.

  "If you try to move before then, I can almost guarantee that you'll end up in a hospital. This is a deep, serious bullet wound, Mr. Fletcher," Dr. Lucien confronted him with the truth.

  Christopher gave up the fight. What the doctor said was true. He would be little use to anyone in his present weakened state ...why, he couldn't even get out of bed on his own... He would have to rest and tope that Katie would soon be here with him, so he'd know that she was safe.

  It was mid-afternoon when Mark received Katie's second note explaining her reasons for leaving for Missouri right away with Dee and Jebediah. It all became clear to Mark then... Emil Montard was behind it all. He had discovered the truth about Christopher and after failing in his blackmail attempts, had informed the authorities.

  As he was about to leave to tell Christopher the whole story, the patrollers returned, pounding loudly on his doors once again.

  "Open up, Kingsford. We know you're in there," Fritch demanded.

  Mark opened the door in a casual motion. "Deputy Fritch, what can I do for you?"

  "We know that Christopher Fletcher was seen in the neighborhood last night and he might have been wounded. We need to search your house again."

  "He's not here and hasn't been here all night."

  "Well, we need to see for ourselves. If you don't mind." Fritch looked at Mark suspiciously.

  But when Mark shrugged indifferently and stepped aside to let him in, they were surprised.

  "Not at all, gentlemen. Please make yourselves at home."

  Mark stood back quietly as they once again checked each room and returned empty-handed. He listened to their conversations, hoping to learn more, but nothing important was said.

  "I guess you're not hiding anything, Kingsford, but just remember what I told you last night."

  "I haven't forgotten, Deputy."

  "Good. We'll be in touch. And you let us know if you hear anything."

  "I'll do that."

  When they had gone, Mark cancelled his trip to Cherie's for fear that they might be following him. Sending a note indirectly through a servant, he let them know that he would come the next day when the searches weren't so intense.

  The Escape

  The only sound in the dining room was the faint clink of the china as Marie and Emil Montard ate breakfast the following morning. They had not spoken to each other yet and the tension was almost tangible.

  Marie was beside herself with grief. She was furious that this could have happened to her... her only son-dead. She choked back a sob and looked down the table at her husband. Emil seemed so cool and unemotional that she felt herself fill with hate for him. Frustrated at every turn, she directed all of her rage at him... wanting to see him break-if only for a moment.

  "How can you just sit there so calmly?" she belittled him. "You just buried your only child yesterday and today you act as though you haven't a care in the world."

  Emil gave her a withering look. "What would you have me do, madam? Air my emotions openly for all to see and leave myself vulnerable to attack? No. I will not."

  He turned his attention back to his food, ignoring her baleful stare.

  "Emil, I'll never forgive you. You have ruined my life..." she cried, undone by his cold words. "Oh that I had taken to the veil. Then I wouldn't have had to face such losses as I've had to endure these past few months."

  Emil continued to eat, paying no attention to her diatribe. When she finally paused in her verbal attack, he managed to get a word in.

  "I will be leaving for St. Louis this afternoon."

  "St. Louis? But, why? How can you leave me at a time like this?"

  "I leave you because I have to. If Dee is to be brought to justice, then I must do it."

  "If you hadn't been stupid enough to let her get away in the first place..."

  "Marie, your cutting remarks are wearing on me. I've explained to you what happened.. .1 did not expect them to run..."

  "More the fool you, then," she sneered.

  Emil stood up abruptly. "I must pack."

  "Don't bother to come back unless you take care of this matter..."

  Emil left the room wishing that he could depart on an earlier boat.

  Christopher awoke early the next morning and felt as if he were surrounded by an air of unreality. How could so much have happened in such a short period of time? Thank God for Mark and his quick thinking. He had saved him from a certain death.

  Now, if he could only make sure that Katie was safe...

  Cherie peeked in and was glad to see that he was awake and looking much better.

  "How do you feel this morning?"

  "Better, I think..." He gave her a smile that seemed closer to a grimace.

  After helping him to a sitting position, she plumped his pillows to give him extra support.

  "Do you want something to eat?"

  "No. Not right now," he dismissed the thought of food as unimportant. "Have you heard anything from Markor Katie?"

  "No. Mark hasn't been back, but he sent a note yesterday afternoon. It seems the patrollers were watching him, so he deliberately stayed away. I'm sure he'll be by sometime today and maybe hell have some information then," she assured him. trying to calm his fears.

  "I hope so. This not knowing is hard to deal with."

  "I know. I went through the same thing when you were all reported lost on the island." Her expression saddened as she remembered her long hours at Isaac's side. Then, wanting to put the past behind her, she forced a anile. "Now, how about some broth? I'm sure you'll be able to tolerate that."

  Christopher shrugged, "Whatever you say."

  "Well, if you want to get out of that bed as quickly as possible, then you'd better start eating. It'll help you get your strength back."

  "Yes ma'am," he grinned sh
eepishly.

  Cherie smiled at him fondly and patted his arm before leaving the room. "Don't you worry. Katie's just fine. I'm sure she'll be here as soon as she can."

  Cherie made her way to the kitchen, her thoughts dwelling on Christopher. She felt good knowing that Katie's marriage was a happy one. Christopher obviously loved her very much and she was sure that Isaac would have been pleased.

  A short time later, while Christopher was forcing down the hot chicken broth Cherie had served him, Mark arrived.

  "Good morning, Christopher. You look a lot better today."

  "Thanks, but I think anything besides a corpse would have been an improvement over yesterday," he answered wryly, as he awkwardly set the lap tray aside with his good hand.

  "That's for sure." Mark dragged a chair back over by the bed.

  "What's this about the patrollers coming back?"

  "Yes, yesterday. They searched the whole house again."

  "What did they have to say?"

  "Not much. They know you've been shot but that's all they know. I don't think they suspect me, but I didn't want to take any chances..."

  "I appreciate that. I have no desire to be strung up in public..." He shifted uncomfortably and paled slightly as he accidentally moved his injured shoulder.

  "Bad? The doctor left some medicine..."

  "No. I'll make it. I don't like to take anything if I can possibly avoid it."

  Mark nodded.

  "Have you had any news from Katie?" he asked and when Mark hesitated, he pressed, "Mark?"

  "It's a very long story..."

  "What is? Katie's all right isn't she? She hasn't been hurt, has she?"

  "To the best of my limited knowledge, she's fine."

  Christopher didn't like the way he left the sentence hang. "I think you'd better start talking and fast."

  Mark cleared his throat. "From what I found out... the day after you left Greenwood, Katie went for her usual ride and was accosted by Andre. When she refused his advances, he turned ugly and threatened her with blackmail."

  "Blackmail?"

  "The Montards are the ones who found out about your connection with the Underground Railroad and they were going to use the information to blackmail you."

  "The Montards?" Christopher was caught by surprise. "I never would have thought... You mean Andre was that obsessed with having Katie?"