He began to feel a reprieve from the hangman's noose would only condemn him to bum, for there was a fire in his blood that would rage for as long as he lived. Perhaps it would smolder unnoticed for a time, but unless the embers were finally quenched, they would flare up at some unsummoned memory, and the heat of his passion would once again sear and scar him.
Finally, he asked what he could do to save himself from her―if that reprieve should come, for almost every condemned man harbors the fantasy of pardon and Aaron was no exception. Surely there was a way to overcome Louisa and the power she wielded, he reasoned. If he could elude the hangman, surely he could outsmart her.
What was her power, her undeniable fascination, her ability to make him weak, to make him vulnerable? How, without his consent, did she have the power to torment him?
The answer came out of nowhere; out of the four comers of his rank cell; out from under the layers of stonework piled carefully around his heart. "You love her," said a remarkably clear voice, "and you will never have any peace until you face it."
Aaron had been alone in the cell for weeks, and he shuddered at the response he was sure he'd heard. He was certain he'd not spoken his curious questions aloud, and though it was nearly pitch black that night, he peered cautiously, even suspiciously about the tiny enclosure. Then he laughed, and his laughter soon became raucous.
He went to the barred door and clenched the ironwork with angry hands. "Come and get me, you bastards! I'm ready," he shouted. "You win! I'm Marshall Hudson!" and he laughed uproariously.
Even dousing with a bucket of ice-cold water failed to quiet his booming laughter. Then for no apparent reason, he was silent, finally leaning with his back against the wall, slowly sliding into a sitting position where he waited the rest of the night, certain he had his answers, believing the gallows would be an easier fate than facing the truth, Humbling himself before Louisa and all she demanded would be no simple surrender. In its way, death seemed a less agonizing choice. Then Aaron roared once more with laughter, for it suddenly occurred to him in the darkness of his wretched cell that he had not been given any choice in the matter. The choice of life or death had been made for him already.
Chapter One Hundred-Six
LOUISA felt as if her eyes were full of sand, and, in spite of her anxiety, she knew if she closed them for more than the second it took to blink, she would fall asleep on her feet. She waited with a young sergeant on the porch outside General Hoffmann's quarters. The sergeant's eyes were frankly curious about Louisa, and his interest was not purely military.
Her demand to see General Hoffmann at 2 A.M. was at first met with humor. But when she told the night officer she had information about the prisoner Marshall Hudson, there was no further hesitation. The major had cast her an odd look, and eyed her companion with serious interest for a few minutes, then ordered Alfredo to wait while he escorted Louisa to see the commandant.
While she waited the sergeant offered her a porch chair. "No thank you," Louisa said wearily, afraid she would fall asleep instantly if she sat down, and the two of them stood eying each other in silence until the major appeared again.
"General Hoffmann will see you, madam," he said, and showed her into a modestly comfortable parlor. Almost immediately, the general joined them, and Louisa stood calmly before him, feeling her pulse quicken as he surveyed her.
"You have information about a prisoner," he began, not offering her the comfort of a chair.
"Yes."
"How did you learn he was being held?"
"A Mr. William Easton gave me the information."
General Hoffmann frowned. "And what is your interest in the matter, madam?"
Louisa lowered her eyes, then raised them immediately, to stare directly into the general's. "I don't happen to believe innocent men should be executed for crimes they did not commit."
"You have proof the man is a federal agent."
"Yes. And unless I'm mistaken, he has provided you with a great deal of valuable information,"
"The information he has given me is useless," Hoffmann said gruffly.
Louisa's shock was evident. "How can it be?"
"It's not a matter subject to discussion just now, madam. What do you have for proof?"
"First, General, tell me about the prisoner. Where is he? And how is he?"
"He will hang this morning if you fail to produce anything of interest," he said coldly.
Louisa felt her knees give out, and the sergeant reached to steady her. "Perhaps you'll have a chair now," he suggested kindly.
Louisa sat down. She touched her forehead wearily with her hand and took a deep breath to give her strength. Then, from a deep pocket inside her long coat, she withdrew the leather envelope she'd come all this way to deliver.
The major took it from her immediately and handed it to General Hoffmann, who examined the small square of leather with obvious interest. He ran a finger over the familiar seal stamped into, the envelope, looking up at Louisa for a few moments, then removed the identity papers, reading them carefully, examining their official seal. "This will have to be authenticated," he said finally.
Louisa nodded. "I'd like to see him tonight."
"It will have to wait until later this morning," he said, handing Aaron's papers back to her. "Bring this when you come―eleven sharp."
"Eleven sharp," she said, smiling for the first time since she'd encountered the general.
"Who are you, madam?"
"My name is Louisa Boyd Hudson."
The general raised an eyebrow.
"It's a rather long story, which also can wait until we meet tomorrow." She extended her hand to the general, and he took it, staring deeply into her tired eyes. "Thank you," she said wearily.
Louisa hardly remembered the quick ride back to Miss Wilson's shop with Alfredo to guide her, nor did she have any recollection of putting herself to bed on the woman's couch in her parlor-waiting room, but she would never forget the horrible nausea that swept over her when she realized she had arrived in San Francisco only hours before Aaron was to be executed for his all-too-convincing impersonation of Marshall Hudson. His skill had almost cost him his life, and whether or not there was any future for them as lovers, Louisa believed she could not have borne his loss through death. In spite of her jealousies, in spite of her anger, in spite of her dreams. she wanted him to be free, even if she could not have him.
Chapter One Hundred-Seven
AARON did not expect the treatment he was receiving this morning. He had expected to go the gallows, but instead, without much explanation, he was escorted to the officers' barracks, served a hearty meal, and offered a bath. He was expertly barbered, and given an expensive stack of clothes which fit him almost perfectly. At first he'd hardly been able to believe the eleventh-hour escape from hanging, but as he studied himself in the mirror before being escorted to General Hoffmann's office one last time, he accepted this twist of fate, and smiled deeply at the face reflected in the glass. He looked reassuringly alive.
As he crossed the fort grounds from the barracks to the general's office, the fog―heavy, late-morning air felt incredibly good. But his smile faded the minute he entered Hoffmann's empty office, remembering the treatment he'd received at the general's command: the inquisitions and isolation, the condemning trial he'd experienced in this very room. And what he waited for now was uncertain. He was told he was to be released, yet an armed guard stood with him in the room while he waited.
Aaron speculated about what news had arrived to spare him, what documentary evidence. He thought of a number of possibilities, never once suspecting his exoneration had been arranged by Louisa until the office door opened and she stood before him looking tired and wan, yet, to his eyes, exceptionally beautiful. But she was not smiling, and in his astonishment, he could only stare.
Aaron stood up, not able to take his eyes from her, at first hardly hearing the general's voice. "Mr. Sumner," General Hoffmann repeated. "I regret your treatment. I canno
t explain why the government seems not to know you, though this woman has produced seemingly authentic documents verifying your identity. I've listened to you, and I've listened to Mrs. Hudson's corroborating statements. Your stories are remarkably alike; hers a little less detailed than yours, but, similar enough in outline."
The general sat down at his desk, and Louisa sat in the chair Aaron had previously occupied, while he remained standing behind her, facing Hoffmann impassively. "The reason I've been reluctant to accept your evidence, Mr. Sumner, is because, in truth, you have given me no evidence. All the names you name―Melville, Taylor, Brockheim, Anderson, Phillips, and the others are useless." The general looked down at his hands which he folded before him on the desk top. "I could have executed you as an example of the punishment those guilty of treason can look forward to, and few would have risen to defend you. But few of those you name can be dealt with so expediently. The men you've named are far too prominent to convict on your word alone, and Easton burned all the evidence at Monterey. There is nothing left but ashes at Crane's Nest."
Aaron's face registered surprise.
"You were correct in suspecting Easton as the informer," Hoffmann sighed heavily. "Mrs. Hudson says he's on his way to Mexico. And it's of no use to ask Mrs. Hudson to testify, though she's offered to do so. Her oath would never be taken in a judicial proceeding. Regardless of the mitigating circumstances, her word would be easy enough to impugn, and, never fear, in this case, every ounce of soiled linen would be dragged before the court. Your illicit union would overpower any testimony given." He spoke kindly, but truthfully, his eyes resting on Louisa. He paused, then began again.
"While I believe the evidence Mrs. Hudson has presented, I cannot release you finally from custody until I have authorization from Washington. But with Mrs. Hudson's consent, I can release you to her custody," he smiled. "Perhaps this sentence will be more to your liking," he said, not expecting either Aaron or Louisa's startled frowns. "Of course, other arrangements can be made," he suggested immediately, adding his own frown to theirs.
"No, of course, it suits us," Louisa said quickly, sitting forward in her chair.
"You'll remember, Sumner, your friends remain in custody until you are finally exonerated," the general added sternly.
"I know the agreement, General," Aaron replied drily. "You have my word, I will not abandon my friends at this late date."
Hoffmann nodded. "I've given Mrs. Hudson a receipt for your documents. You are free to go."
Louisa stood up, and the general looked at the young couple thoughtfully. What he had thought would be a delightful way for them to wait out word from Washington did not seem to be a cheerful prospect for the young government agent. Nor did the young woman seem very pleased with his solution to the possibly indefinite wait for official acknowledgment of Aaron Sumner's mission. Though it was obvious she cared a great deal for this man who was now, to the general's mind, adequately identified, Hoffmann was certain she had accepted his proposal only to avoid more delay in obtaining the man's release.
Well, the general shrugged his shoulders, it was something the two of them would have to work out between them. They would never know how grateful he was not to have to hang a man he had suspected all along was innocent. At this moment California was such a tinderbox that he had come incredibly close to ordering the execution of Aaron Sumner if only to set an example, and the lifting of the death sentence was nearly as much a relief to General Hoffmann as it was to the condemned man himself.
Chapter One Hundred-Eight
LOUISA gave the driver of Hoffmann's carriage the name of a hotel, and then accepted Aaron's hand. It felt warm and she was reassured by the strength of his grip as he assisted her into the carriage. But they said nothing to each other as they rode along.
Finally Aaron broke the silence. "Thank you, señora," he said with a slight nod of his head. "I'm indebted to you, as well as in your custody." He smiled at her slightly.
Louisa acknowledged his words coolly, but she had no smile for him in return, feeling pushed to the edge of exhaustion, and not the least amused by Aaron's assignment to her custody. She found it ludicrous. Louisa did not see herself in the role of jailer, and if there was a more recalcitrant sort of man to deal with than Aaron, she wouldn't know where to look for him. But, she supposed, Hoffmann was only living up to the letter of his responsibilities. If Aaron disappeared, Hoffmann probably didn't care in the least. Nor did she, for that matter. He was free to go, as far as she was concerned. In fact, it would be easier for her if he did take to the wind.
Louisa looked at Aaron steadily. "I've one last errand in San Francisco. And if you would be so kind, I believe I can accomplish it by this evening."
"Whatever you command, señora." The sarcasm was restrained but obvious in his voice.
Louisa glared at him, but otherwise ignored his tone. "I want to leave for home tomorrow. If we can't book passage south, we can go home the way we came."
"And how did you come?"
"By horseback, accompanied by Carmen's nephew, Alfredo―"
"I know him," he interrupted.
Louisa couldn't miss Aaron's astonishment. "You seem surprised, but you forget, again, I've more fortitude than you give me credit for. I'm not as weak as you wish to believe."
"I've never thought of you as weak. Fragile, perhaps. But not weak."
There was a strangely serious note in his voice, but Louisa was too exhausted to pay much attention. "As I started to say, I would like you and Alfredo to make whatever arrangements are necessary. Alfredo's at the hotel now, waiting. I intend to rest this afternoon, then go out later this evening."
"Whatever you say." This time the remark was passed without sarcasm, and the afternoon progressed as Louisa intended. As soon as possible, she collapsed in her bed at the Piedmont Hotel and slept as if she were dead until Aaron disturbed her at the hour she requested.
Then the three of them―Louisa, Aaron, and Alfredo―ate quietly in the hotel's small dining room. "There's no passage available until next week," Aaron informed Louisa. "Therefore, our horses will be ready in the morning, if you want. But you look like you could spend the next week in bed." Louisa shot Aaron a particularly sharp glance. "Sleeping, of course," he added with only a trace of a smile in his eyes.
"Tomorrow will be fine," she replied, and finished her coffee. "Thank you, Alfredo, I think six is a good hour to start out," she said as the man excused himself from their presence. "I've something to do this evening," she began as soon as they were alone. "I've arranged a carriage to take me where I need to go, but perhaps you'd like to accompany me and wait while I conclude my business."
"I've no better plans for the evening, señora."
"Fine," and Louisa gave him the first smile he'd seen on her face that day, but her eyes had a malicious gleam he'd seen on a few other occasions.
Within the hour the hired carriage pulled in front of the Hill house. "What business do you have here, Louisa?" Aaron inquired with obvious curiosity.
"It's personal," she said as she stepped into the night. "I won't be gone long," she promised, turning away from him quickly.
A servant opened the door for her, and as she had suspected from the lights in the house and from the gay noise, Marguerite was entertaining. Tonight the collection of guests was small, but Louisa was not expected to be among them and Marguerite's total surprise was evident, "My dear!" she cried when she turned her attention from a guest to see Louisa.
"Why, Louisa," echoed the colonel. "We'd heard you were in San Francisco!"
She smiled faintly at Colonel Hill. "Good evening, General Hoffmann," she said, nodding to the man standing next to the colonel's wife. The general reached for her hand, and she extended it warmly, as if they were long-term acquaintances.
"I apologize for intruding on your gathering," Louisa continued, standing with her cape still wrapped around her shoulders, "but, before I leave tomorrow, I had to speak with you, Marguerite. This was the last
occasion I had to call on you before I left."
Marguerite was flushed. "Why yes," she said pleasantly. "Let's go to my room and talk. You'll excuse us; we promise not to tarry," she said to her guests as she took Louisa's arm and led her to the stairs.
"I'm surprised to see you," Marguerite said in an especially hushed voice as they climbed the stairs to her third-floor room.
"I'm sure you are." Louisa was noncommittal, saying nothing further until Marguerite's door was closed behind them.
"What is it you want, Louisa," she began testily, her politeness vanishing suddenly.
"Not long ago you were given a pearl pendant that belongs to me. I want you to return it."
Marguerite smiled slyly, and there was very real amusement in her voice. "You're referring to a trinket I received from a mutual lover?" she inquired. "I'm not certain which gift you're referring to, but I do remember the man," she added with a wistful note in her voice for Louisa's benefit.
"You remember the gift as well, I'm certain," Louisa said casually. Then her eyes narrowed. "I'm also certain General Hoffmann would be most interested in your 'association' with a number of men."
"What concern could he have with my affairs?" Feeling secure in her position, Marguerite's smile broadened and her voice softened.
"I'm sure you know of Marshall's arrest?" Marguerite nodded. "You're one of the few. As Colonel Hill's wife you often come by information others have yet to hear."
"I also understand your 'husband' was released into your custody, Louisa. That should be interesting―I should have loved to have him released into mine."
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