A Conspiracy to Murder, 1865

by T. L. B. Wood

  “Lincoln was a fascinating figure with his lack of formal education and innate drive to learn. And he managed to keep learning, studying battle tactics so that he could direct and discuss with his generals, a point of which seemed to enrage General McClellan. I think he referred to Lincoln as the “original gorilla” or something equally unflattering.” Fitzhugh rose to rescue the whistling kettle and pour the water into the waiting teapot. Almost immediately, I detected the bergamot fragrance wafting through the air, the scent helping to clear the lingering sleep-induced fog from my brain.

  Kipp’s moist nose made a print on the window of the kitchen door as he stared at us. Clearly, he and Juno were finished and ready to come in. Fitzhugh opened the door and a second later, the kitchen floor was covered with damp, slightly muddy paw prints. “Sorry,” Juno said, glancing up at me, her large ears drooping in chagrin.

  “No problem, sweetheart,” I replied. “Kipp can mop later,” I added, feeling mean. When humanoids cohabited with lupines, there was just going to be a lot of hair and paw prints, and that’s a fact.

  Kipp, in response, huffed, and, after circling, plopped on the floor.

  Fitzhugh brought the tea service to the table and, at my nod, poured me a cup of amber tea. I was feeling lazy and obviously feeling entitled to being served.

  “I think it would be a limited trip, and you could avoid the notable personalities of the day, focusing your attention only on the Surratt household and the comings and goings of John Wilkes Booth and his gang,” Fitzhugh began. He sat back in the chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “If it is a question of determining her guilt or innocence, it would be a matter of sifting through her thoughts, something any of you could easily manage over a short distance, or you could rely upon Kipp for the greater challenges.” He winked at Kipp, who thumped his tail at the complimentary remark concerning his abilities. “And you wouldn’t have to go in the heat of the summer, when Washington was almost unbearable.”

  “Why’s that?” Kipp asked, finally interested in our conversation.

  “Washington was built adjacent to a swamp. There was more than one waterway, and, as the population swelled during wartime, those were used for general sewage disposal. The heat, combined with insects and the matter of disease due to poor sanitation, made the summers unpleasant. The Lincoln family would retreat from the White House, due to its proximity to the swampy lowland, and go to the Soldiers’ Home, which was a few miles away, and remain there from mid-summer until November.” Fitzhugh took a delicate sip of his tea; with a napkin, he dabbed at his mustache. “Lincoln’s son, Willie, died of the fever that was so prevalent.”

  “What is it with humans and the lack of common sense about sanitation?” Kipp began to groom his paws, his pink tongue removing the moisture from the early morning dew-coated grass. “I mean, even animals know not to soil their immediate living area with poo.”

  “People didn’t know about bacteria, germs, or organisms that are not seen by the human eye until relatively recently in history,” Fitzhugh said. “We learned about it when I was young, and that was a very long time ago, when a traveler informed us.”

  Kipp, who was brighter than most, had as much trouble wrapping his head around the notion that even though we thought our time was current, we could just be existing in the past and some traveler from perhaps a hundred years in the future could come back to visit us. The reason that such things were discouraged was due to the chaos it created.

  “When you think about it, Kipp, during your time-shift to the time of the General, those people perceived you and your companions as being their contemporaries. In fact, all those people had been dead for many years by the time you arrived.” Fitzhugh smiled. “It makes me dizzy when I think about it, too,” he added comfortingly, not wanting Kipp to fret over being lost in the maze. “It’s kind of like trying to figure out when time began…you just can’t do it.”

  Kipp shook his head and began to lick his paws with more vigor. It was good to not linger on such notions, I thought.

  I rousted my partner up out of his blue funk and, after donning my running clothes, we set out for a trot into the countryside. It had been a while since we’d gone to the cemetery to visit my George’s resting place, and I was feeling sentimental. After studiously avoiding any situations or stimuli that might make me sad, Kipp had shoved all of it in my face and I found, to my delight, that his bossiness helped me to heal. I really didn’t feel sad when visiting George’s little plot on the hillside, surrounded by other departed souls; instead, I felt comfortable and reflective in a positive way.

  In a short time, my feet were thudding out the comforting rhythm of a slow jog. I was not a speed demon and cared not what others, who had more skin in the game of running, thought of my meandering trot. It really just felt good to be outside, and the running caused me to breathe deeper, and the result cleared my head remarkably. Kipp was quiet, his thoughts withdrawn from mine, as we ran as a pair, separate for a change. As if he realized the separation, he angled a little closer, so that his furry flank was brushing my right leg as we ran. He had no need to comfort me as I knew he would never stray far from my mind and heart.

  The habitation thinned, and we drew close to the cemetery. As we passed under the arching iron entrance, I glanced up at the sky, when the hillside before us was unexpectedly shrouded in a wave of darkness. But I had no need to fear; there was no impending storm brewing. Instead, a white, perfect cloud, which looked like a mound of whipped cream, had moved to block the sun momentarily. In the next second, the cloud shifted, and a sudden burst of brightness overwhelmed the green hill, illuminating the granite markers standing starkly upright, their pale coolness a contrast to the organic greens and browns upon which they rested.

  It was not seeming to run across the graves, so I slowed to a walk, carefully zigzagging while enjoying the sensation of the deceleration of my heartbeat in response. My hand drifted down to stroke Kipp’s head. Just beneath the crest of the hill, I found George’s place, the grass thick, only slightly withered due to the summer’s heat. After checking the ground for ant beds, I plopped down, while Kipp angled up next to me, sitting so that I could drape my arm over his back. It was a good place from which to view the world. My hand, across his broad chest, could feel the solid thump of his heart against my palm.

  “Peter and Elani are coming by this evening so that she can present the idea of the time-shift,” Kipp remarked. Overhead, a solitary crow flew to the southwest, cawing loudly as he passed overhead. His head twisted slightly as if he was watching us, no doubt wondering what we had planned as we rested amongst the granite tombstones. We must have seemed to be suspicious characters to him.

  “Okay,” I replied noncommittally.

  “You know, it could be a very interesting trip and yield some valuable historical information,” Kipp continued. He turned his massive head so that I could scratch between his upright ears. The sunlight pulled all the deep reds and gold tones from his glorious coat; his eyes sparked fiery amber in the light.

  “You have decided you want to go,” I replied, trying to keep the dullness from my voice.

  “No, I really haven’t. But I am eager to hear Elani’s presentation, and if she has managed to do the research, we would be silly not to consider the pros and cons.” He exhaled, and I realized he’d been careful in his words.

  Pulling him closer, I said, “Kipp, you don’t need to be so cautious with me. Remember, it’s healthy and good for us to disagree and argue, if needed.” His face was so close to mine that his nose looked three times its actual size. “I promise I haven’t thrown out the idea and will consider it fairly.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be around during the time of Lincoln’s assassination?” he asked.

  I paused while a late summer bee droned overhead. Kipp resisted the urge to snap at the insect, which was annoying but harmless. Following Kipp’s thoughts, he realized the little bee was another fellow creature, just being abou
t his business. Since he meant us no harm, no harm should come to him. For a big, rough, kind of scary looking lupine, Kipp had the heart of a pussy cat.

  “I didn’t…don’t,” I replied hesitantly. “But I recall many past trips Tula and I made that were not number one on my favorite list. This is our occupation, after all.” It had taken me a while, but I thought, at that moment, that I’d come home. It was time to embrace my nature or forever run from it.

  We had obviously talked it out, and it was time to leave. Finally, I rousted myself into a slow jog, and when we arrived at the house, I was a sweaty mess, and Kipp was panting like a bellows. I looked forward to a shower and retreat to my room to read. Kipp had finally finished Wuthering Heights, thank goodness, and I was curious to see what he planned next in his classics line up. It seemed a good way to spend a lazy day, since my yard work was caught up, and perhaps even doze a little before Peter and Elani—who promised to bring Chinese takeout—arrived later that evening.

  After closing the plantation blinds and shrouding the room in darkness, I clicked on the ceiling fan and climbed into bed, my hair still damp from the shower. Kipp was waiting for me; he’d dropped the Kindle on my pillow, and I powered it up.

  “Well, what will it be?” I asked, checking the library that Peter had carefully assembled.

  “I ran across a book called The Last of the Mohicans, and I liked the title. I thought it might be fun to read it together.”

  That happened to be one of my favorites, but it had been a while. The overhead fan was making a hypnotic, whirring noise, buzzing softly against the dimness of the room. I tried not to yawn as I turned the electronic page and read the first line aloud, while Kipp lazily closed his eyes.

  “Hey, I thought you were gonna read this,” I whined, not really upset but just fussing for the fun of it.

  “I like to hear your voice,” he replied, opening his mouth in a loud yawn.

  I’m not sure when we both fell asleep, but it was somewhere in the middle of chapter two, I think.

  Ten

  The fragrance from the Chinese food hung pleasantly in my small kitchen, as Fitzhugh, Philo, Peter, and I gathered around my dinette that fortunately accommodated four people, if we huddled close and kept our elbows politely tucked to our sides. Philo had been a last minute add on, bringing Vashti, who was busy with the other lupines, scarfing down chicken and vegetables on a bed of rice. She was momentarily fascinated by the tiny pieces of corn before crunching on one, allowing herself to savor the flavor and texture before nodding. I smiled, thinking of how she’d looked when we rescued her compared to the present, when her health and vitality was fully restored. I was happy to not see her ribs straining against her fur. Of course, the memory also conjured up a snapshot in my head of that moment, the first time I met William Harrow. My hand drifted up to my throat, and I allowed myself the luxury of letting my fingertips graze over the cool strand of pearls. Kipp’s head went up, his eyes meeting mine, his tail thumping the sheetrock in support. Surprisingly, Fitzhugh made another unauthorized quick dive into my head as he noticed my touch of the pearls, a much welcomed mental hug. I realized he was enjoying his newly permitted behaviors that mimicked Kipp’s and in his advanced years was becoming more, uh, natural. I smiled at him. It was a private moment in a room filled with telepaths.

  “I know what you mean about Karl,” Peter was saying, as I snapped to attention. “I met him today, Philo, and he just about took my head off for no good reason. His lips are all pinched like he’s sucked a lemon,” Peter added, demonstrating for good measure.

  Philo rolled his eyes, knowing he shouldn’t talk about personnel issues but happy all secrets stayed within the boundaries of our group. He couldn’t talk to Claire anymore, since she’d left, and Vashti was still pretty new on the scene. As I watched them, I wondered if she would want to pair off again to travel or if she was content just padding around at Philo’s side. The trip during which Kipp and I had rescued her had been a tough one, and her relationship with the unethical Silas had been gravely disappointing. She was older than Kipp but still a young symbiont with plenty of traveling years remaining. What an odd group we made, I thought…a couple of elders on the far end of the spectrum, youngsters hovering expectantly on the cusp of adventure, and some in the middle who were trying to not become jaded by life.

  “We will be interviewing a new assistant for you, Fitzhugh,” Philo began, anticipating the negative response.

  “I’ve told you I really don’t need anyone,” Fitzhugh sputtered, dabbing at his mustache with a napkin.

  “And if you’d keep from running everyone off,” Philo responded, not meaning it. “you’ll still have Petra in between time-shifts,” he added, his voice soothing. “But the work is piling up, and you know it.” After hesitating, he added, “I’ve been talking to Peter, Kipp, and Elani and will soon be making some staffing announcements.”

  Fitzhugh raised his shaggy eyebrows, crossing his arms at his chest. It was not an inviting posture.

  “Peter has agreed to return to the library to help, in between other assignments.” Philo glanced at Fitzhugh, who was noncommittal. “Elani is going to take over Kipp’s English class for the young lupines; Kipp will keep his ethics class as well as assume more of a management role over all the activities that involve the education and training of the lupines.”

  My mouth fell open in a smile. Kipp had concealed this news from me, so I was as surprised as the others. I was proud of Kipp and his rapid ascension to a position of authority. I glanced at him, meeting his eyes; his ears flattened as I registered his fundamental sense of humility. He would never be one to seek out advancement but could take on the load with ease and a grateful heart. And for a symbiont of Elani’s youth to be given such responsibility was a compliment to her intelligence and grace.

  “Well, I suppose that is acceptable,” Fitzhugh remarked, his voice gruff. “At least I won’t have to break in a newbie. Peter knows how I operate.”

  “And how!” Peter replied, before he could exercise good judgment and keep his mouth shut. The rest of us had to laugh and even Fitzhugh smirked, just a little, his lips tightening.

  “Any plans for Vashti?” I asked.

  Philo exchanged a guarded look with her. “She and I are also talking, and at this time, she will stay with me and get accustomed to our collective, making connections as well as friendships. Who knows?” he added, cryptically.

  The table fell quiet, and Elani demonstrated her excellent sense of timing. “I’m ready, if you all are, to begin.”

  “Yes, let’s do that,” I responded, my voice a little too loud. I felt perhaps I’d broached a topic that was a little too raw in terms of Vashti and was ready to plow forward with a different subject.

  While Fitzhugh made the ubiquitous pot of Earl Grey, I cleared the table and let the lupines out the back door for a quick dash through the yard. Juno, since we’d started giving her some turmeric with the glucosamine, was noticeably spryer, and she managed the back steps with a little more spring to her walk. I took a moment to walk out on my narrow back porch, enjoying the darkness, never able to decide if I enjoyed sunrise or twilight more. There was a soft breeze threading through the trees; the leaves rustled gently against one another, the sound soothing as I closed my eyes to focus. I caught a vague fragrance of some blooming flower that brought a sweet taste to the back of my tongue. A full moon hovered overhead, highlighting the trees and shrubs in the yard; shadows cast gave promise to the hidden mysteries of nature. Down the street, somebody’s dog was barking; a car door slammed and an engine started. Smiling, I thought of the uniqueness of our position. I lived amongst humans, and they never grew suspicious of my true origin. Around me, they went about their lives, happy and confident that they understood the essence of the universe swirling around them. We could never make ourselves known; it would be destabilizing, to say the least. The temptation of humans to use our skills, even in the pursuit of good, would be too overwhelming, and corr
uption would be the outcome.

  In the yard, I was pleased to see that Elani had relaxed her tense posture with Vashti, who had engaged in the game of chase that Elani and Kipp had perfected. If anything, she was almost a little better at it, using her natural predatory instincts in a more calculating manner than just running willly nilly back and forth as fast as possible. She managed to barrel into Kipp and sent him flying, not an easy task considering his solid bulk, and he landed hard, with a grunt. Juno laughed so hard, eclipsing the usual lupine style laugh where the jaw hung open, that she began to wheeze a little.

  “Okay, guys, before someone gets hurt,” I mildly reprimanded the trio.

  Panting, they touched noses, the lupine equivalent of a fist bump and a signal that there were no hard feelings. As they passed me to come inside, Vashti glanced up and slowly closed one eye in a conspiratorial wink over her assault on Kipp, who was trying not to show that he was slightly limping. I shook my head in mock reproof. “You’re a bad girl,” I whispered to her.

  “Here is how I have planned the time-shift,” Elani began, once we all settled. Peter brought a plate full of cookies he’d dumped from a box, and Fitzhugh’s tea had been served.

  We were in my front room. Silver waves of moonlight broke through the large windows to puddle on the worn, wooden plank floor. It was a comfortable house but not a tidy one, and the collected junk from the ages lent wisdom to it, if that was possible. Could inanimate objects bring a presence with them? It often felt so. As I sampled a cookie, I wondered what the expiration date had been on the box. The morsel seemed a little stale, and I quickly washed it down with a gulp of scalding tea. I wasn’t sure which was worse: the taste of the cookie or the lingering burn on the roof of my mouth from the tea.