by Merry Farmer
Lucy gasped. She pulled her hand away to bring it to her mouth, eyes wide. “How?”
“Terribly,” Gideon answered, lowering his head in shame. “The gas choked them, burned them from the inside out. Those men died—” A hitch caught in his throat and he sobbed before he could stop himself. “They died horribly. Choking, writhing, blind, mad with pain, clutching at their throats, their eyes. A hundred of them. And I caused it. It was my doing, as surely if I’d aimed a gun at each one of them and pulled the trigger.”
A part of his heart hoped that Lucy would rush to defend him, that she would assure him he wasn’t to blame, that the army had manipulated him, that he was only one man on a team, and that any one of them could have put a stop to the experiment at any time. Or that she would say with so many people intent on the project, it was understandable that he feared speaking up lest he lose his position in the scientific community. He waited for her to say any one of those things.
She only stared at him, her hand pressed to her mouth, her wide eyes stark with horror.
“But couldn’t you do anything?” she asked at last. “Couldn’t they be saved if someone gave them water, cleaned them out somehow to get rid of the gas?”
Gideon shook his head. “I did nothing. I… I watched. There was nothing we could do once the gas was spread. If we had run into the area of the battle ourselves, we would have died along with them. All we could do was… watch.”
He didn’t realize tears were streaming down his cheeks until he raised a hand to rub his face and it came away wet.
“But how….” Lucy started but couldn’t finish. Her arms dropped limply to her sides. She blinked at him. “Is that what happened to Mr. Diver’s son?”
Gideon shrugged, feeling like the worst kind of monster, desperate for one glimpse of hope, of forgiveness for sins that could never be forgiven. “It must be. I can only imagine that Mr. Diver has discovered enough about the experiment to know I killed his son.”
He wanted Lucy to say he wasn’t the one who killed Michael Diver, but she didn’t. She stared, unblinking.
He had no choice but to go on, to finish the tale. “The only bright spot in the entire horror came when Brigadier General James Wolfe Ripley, the man in charge of ordinance for the army and of the experiment, saw the results. He deemed the effects of the gas so terrible that he shut the project down, determined that the research should be forgotten in favor of other, more humane methods of warfare. Very few people know that these experiments were ever conducted, and God willing, no one will ever consider reviving them or using chlorine gas as a weapon again.”
That was it. The end of everything he had to tell. The end of everything. He glanced up at Lucy from where he had folded forward, resting his elbows on his knees, head bowed in penitence. She watched him, her expression pinched and troubled as she tried to make sense of what he’d said.
“A hundred people?” she asked. “Just like that?”
Gideon nodded. He lowered his head once more. “I’m a murderer, Lucy, plain and simple. I don’t have a right to be in your presence, let alone lay claim to your heart or your hand. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone, more than I deserve to love anyone.” He made his confession without looking at her. “But I had no right to do anything about it until I told you what kind of man I am. My sins are unforgivable, and they will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
Silence greeted his confession. Around them, the sounds of the wagon train and of Ft. Laramie drifted back into focus. Children were laughing somewhere as they played a game. A man was playing a banjo and singing as others clapped along. The oxen were lowing, and somewhere inside the fort, a cow mooed in reply. Everything was business as usual in the world around him. Gideon closed his eyes and let it wash over him as he waited for Lucy’s response.
After too, too long, she murmured one thing. “Oh.” It was a lost, distant sound.
Gideon risked a glance at her, but as he did, Lucy stood. Her jaw moved—either as she tried to say something or as if she was working moisture back into a dry mouth—but no words were spoken. She drew in a breath, then turned and walked away.
With a long, aching breath, Gideon sank to rest his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees the only thing keeping him from slumping to the ground. That was it. He’d lost her. He never should have let himself get carried away by his passions in the first place. A soul as dark as his had no right to love a woman like Lucy, and now he had lost her.
Feeling stupid was nothing new to Lucy, but as she wandered away from the wagons and the camp outside of Ft. Laramie, making a circuit around the fort’s palisade, her mind was so overwrought that she couldn’t think anything at all. The best she could manage was to put one foot in front of the other and to stare out at the horizon without seeing it.
A hundred people. Dead. Horribly dead. All because of Gideon’s science.
She tried to picture it, tried to imagine a cloud of something the color of the liquid in Gideon’s jars. She’d had enough of a whiff of the chlorine to know what it smelled like, and her imagination magnified the smell a thousand times. Yes, that would be awful. She could imagine choking on a scent like that, a thousand times worse than her mother’s harshest perfume. But to be killed by a smell? No, there must be more to it.
By the time she completed her circle around the fort, approaching the camp from the opposite side, Gideon was gone. She wasn’t sure what she would have said to him if he was there. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t certain she would have approached him in the first place. The things he’d told her were too much to take in.
“Dear me, Lucy, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Estelle stopped her in her tracks with the light-hearted observation.
When Lucy turned to her, Estelle’s smile faded. Olivia was with her, hanging laundry on a line that had been strung between two wagons. Her smile vanished as well.
“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked.
Keeping thoughts and feelings inside had never done much for Lucy, so instead of wandering on, grasping for some sort of understanding, she changed directions and joined her friends.
“Gideon just told me he killed a hundred men,” she blurted.
Estelle’s eyes went wide, and Olivia dropped the clothespin she was trying to stick into one of Charlie’s shirts on the line. “What?”
Lucy blinked rapidly, shaking herself to find some sense. She took a breath. “He just told me that he was involved in an experiment with chlorine gas that ended up killing a hundred soldiers on a battlefield when they tested it out.”
Estelle and Olivia exchanged baffled looks. “That’s not exactly the same thing as killing a hundred men,” Estelle said, though slowly, as if she wasn’t sure whether it was or not.
“He said that he and his research team stood by and watched, that they got carried away while doing the research and forgot that what they were doing could kill people,” she went on, sinking to sit on a barrel beside the basket of damp clothes that were being hung. “I just don’t know what to think about something like this. I’ve never heard anything like it before. Did you know that gasses can kill people?”
Both of her friends shook their heads, shrugging. They returned to their work, but with slower movements.
“Science can do good things, and it can do bad things, I guess,” Olivia said. She hung one more shirt, then moved to sit by Lucy’s side. “What else did Gideon say about it?”
“Just that.” Lucy let out a long breath and slouched. “I never would have pegged Gideon for a murderer in a thousand years.”
“Neither would I,” Estelle added. She finished her laundry and came to join them. “He’s been so kind with everything he’s done for Graham. Graham considers him a great friend, and Graham has excellent judgment of character.”
“Yes, but does Graham know about this?” Lucy asked.
Estelle didn’t answer. Lucy didn’t need her to. She doubted Gideon would have told anyone.
“I don’t know. When he finished telling me, I had to get up and take a walk to think about it.” Which might not have been the best idea. What must Gideon think of her reaction? For that matter, what did she think? “I’m not sure I can be around him right now.”
Estelle hummed in what might have been agreement, but also might have been censure. “It does sound like something that needs a lot of thought.”
“Do you love him?” Olivia asked, so gently that Lucy could have dreamed it.
“I certainly thought so,” she sighed. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for him to ask me to marry him. And… and I suppose it’s no secret to anyone that we’ve spent more than a few nights together on the trail.”
Her cheeks went hot. She’d enjoyed herself in the carnal embrace of a man who was responsible for a hundred deaths. Dear heavens, what if she was already pregnant with his child?
She blew out a noisy breath and leaned against Olivia. “I simply don’t know what to do. I’m not smart enough for a situation like this.”
“I don’t think this is a situation that calls for smarts,” Estelle said. “It’s one that calls for heart.”
“I agree,” Olivia said. “I also think this calls for a walk.”
“But I just went for a walk around the fort.” Lucy put up a weak protest.
“Not with us you didn’t,” Estelle countered.
Olivia nudged her to stand, and the three of them started back around the fort the way they’d come. As they walked, Lucy’s thoughts continued to tumble and jumble over each other. Nothing—not growing up on the ranch or going to fancy schools in Cincinnati or being sneered at by polite society—had prepared her to face this sort of a challenge. But then, she supposed, there were women all over the nation these days, after the war, who had to bear the unbearable and decide what they should do.
A group of children were playing a game that involved kicking a ball in the field on the far side of the fort. A few of the soldiers had taken a break from their duties to watch them, as well as some of the pioneers. Lucy managed a smile for the exuberance that the young boys and girls showed as they chased the ball, faces shining.
She was about to comment on how free and innocent children were when she spotted Leopold Diver amongst those watching. His face was as grim as everything that boiled inside of her.
He turned to find her staring at him just as Estelle said, “I’m so glad that Tim is playing with the other children today. What a day we all had yesterday.”
“Yes, I was worried for a minute there,” Olivia answered.
Lucy barely heard her. Leopold narrowed his eyes, studying her across the distance. It struck her that he might not have been the nicest of men, even though he was grieving over his wife and son. He hadn’t really let Gideon apologize, after all. Now that she knew the truth, it was clear as day that’s what Gideon had tried to do when Leopold talked about his son. Then again, she’d walked away just as fast.
The whole situation made her limp with confusion.
“Miss Lucy.” The cheery cry of Alvin as he broke away from the ball game and ran toward her was the only thing that kept her from plopping to the ground and weeping. “Miss Lucy, are you here to watch me play?”
“Yes, sweetheart, of course.” She did her best to smile, stepping ahead of Estelle and Olivia to greet Alvin with a hug when he came near. She needed that hug, more than the boy would know.
Then again, maybe he did know. He stepped back from her with a frown. “Why are you so sad?”
His curt observation actually made Lucy laugh. “I’m not sad now, not now that I’m here with you.”
Alvin didn’t buy it. He glanced around, spotted a wilted wildflower, then went and yanked it up by the roots. Then he brought it to her and held it out. “Here. You said I should pick flowers instead of stealing that dumb ring for you.”
Lucy accepted the flower and breathed in its faint scent. She drew in a breath of relief along with it. Leave it to a child to remind her that there was still light and innocence in the world.
With that thought, she peeked over at Leopold. Her smile faltered. He was still watching her. Well, there was nothing she could do about that.
“I told you, you should marry me instead of that scientist,” Alvin scolded her.
“What?” Her brow rose to her hairline.
“I bet you’re sad because he was mean to you,” Alvin went on. “Mrs. Poole was always sad because that stupid Mr. Poole was mean to her, and now Mrs. Jackson gets angry when Mr. Jackson says mean things to her.”
“It’s not that,” she rushed to reassure him, unnerved by the sharpness of Alvin’s observations about adults.
Although, in a way, it was.
“I’m sad because I haven’t had a chance to see you play this game yet,” she fibbed. “Will you tell me how it’s played?”
Beside her, she could feel the approval of her friends. And why not? When one part of life got too confusing and difficult, there were always other things in life to focus on. Why, Aunt Virginia had built an entire ranch when she was in mourning for Uncle Cyrus. Until Lucy figured out a way to make sense of everything Gideon had told her, she would enjoy her friends, young and old.
“It’s just kickball,” Alvin said. “Come on.”
He gestured for her to follow him back to the game, then beamed when she stood with the rest of the parents and onlookers watching him. Estelle cheered for Tim as the boys played, and Olivia shouted encouragement for all of her students in the trail school.
But the game wasn’t the only thing being watched. Several times, Lucy snuck a peek to the side, only to find Leopold staring at her, studying her. The sharpness in his eyes was as unsettling as the confessions Gideon had made. For good or bad, she found herself suddenly anxious to get through the next few weeks and make it home.
Chapter Twelve
Lucy was certain there was some sort of lesson to be learned in the fact that the wagon train moved on the next day without much fanfare. She still didn’t know what to say to Gideon or how to settle her heart every time she thought about the deaths he’d been involved in. Leopold continued to watch her when she least expected it, his face betraying no emotion. But at the same time, she had friends to walk with, and Alvin to make her smile.
“I learned how to tie a cat’s paw knot,” Alvin said, rushing up to her once the wagons had stopped for the evening after their second day of journeying out of Ft. Laramie.
“That’s very nice,” she praised him as he held up the complicated knot, in spite of the fact that her mind wasn’t focused.
Across several yards of scrubby grass, Gideon brought his wagon to a stop. Away from the rest of the train. He’d done the same thing yesterday, and spent the entire evening in silence by his own meager campfire. Estelle had tried to bring him supper, but he’d refused, insisting he could cook his own beans and that that was good enough for him. He brought out Graham’s leg to work on as soon as his wagon was in place, his frown so weary that it made Lucy’s chest ache.
“I can make a better one.” Alvin’s statement pulled Lucy back to their conversation.
“What?” She blinked. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. What were you saying?”
Alvin pursed his lips, lowering his arms. “If it’s not good enough, I can make another one. Or learn more knots. Mr. Jackson says boys who are destined for manual labor should know how to make knots and tend to animals and things like that.”
Lucy sat straighter, wondering if that was good advice or if Mr. Jackson was a bit of a narrow-minded bully.
“That’s a perfectly fine knot.” She smiled and reached over to ruffle Alvin’s hair. The pressure in her chest was still there, regardless.
Her gaze drifted back to Gideon. He snapped his head down, as though he’d been watching her but couldn’t bear for her to look at him. Well, it was too late for that. It was t
oo late for a lot of things.
“Excuse me.”
Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Leopold’s voice right behind her. She pressed a hand to her chest and whipped around to face him. The man’s face was as expressionless as it always was. He was dressed only in his shirtsleeves and traveling clothes today, as opposed to the fine suit he’d been wearing at the fort. Something about him sent worms writhing through Lucy’s gut. Maybe it was knowing what had happened to his son.
“Is that a cat’s paw hitch knot?” he surprised her by addressing his question to Alvin, not her.
“Yeah.” Alvin narrowed his eyes and looked up at him as if waiting for Leopold to tell him off.
A thin smile tweaked Leopold’s lips. “I taught my son to tie that knot when he was about your age.”
“So?” Alvin crossed his arms, bristling with suspicion.
Leopold swayed back. “It’s just that you reminded me of my son for a moment.”
Alvin’s scowl faltered. “I’m not your son,” he said, though with more than a little uncertainty.
Leopold cleared his throat, back going stiff. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”
He turned and marched off, down the line of wagons. Lucy’s heart squeezed in her chest. She leaned down to bring her face closer to Alvin’s.
“That wasn’t very nice,” she whispered to him. “Mr. Diver’s son was killed in the war, and he’s still very sad about it. He deserves our kindness.”
For a moment, Alvin wilted with guilt. A split-second later, he scowled twice as dark as before. “Yeah? Well, how was I supposed to know? He’s not my dad, and you’re not my mom.”
He threw the knotted rope at her feet and ran off in the opposite direction as Leopold.
