The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  His father and Elliot Ross had spent some time discussing it, and it had been decided that the following summer, when the Ross girl turned sixteen, she and Matthew would be properly introduced. Mr. Ross could not be convinced to allow his daughter to court any sooner, even with a constant chaperone. If Matthew remembered correctly, the man had wanted to wait at least two years, but Father had refused. Likely because he probably thought he couldn’t hold Matthew for any longer than the one year he was already forced to accept. But that was back when secession was still just something men threw around in conversations and no one, at least not Matthew, thought would come to pass. But it had that following January, and the summer courtship to Ross’s daughter had been forgotten.

  Matthew tried to remember the face of the young girl so he might compare it to the face of Miss Smith, but could not recall it with any clarity. Could she truly be the same waif who’d wandered to the line? It seemed unlikely. The stiff Mr. Ross would have insisted his daughter be an impeccably proper lady. Miss Smith was anything but. The mystery surrounding this girl grew ever thicker.

  Matthew breathed evenly but did not lie back on the mat. He would not sleep here tonight, despite how much his body cried out for rest. As soon as he was sure the shopkeeper was asleep, he would make his way out into the night.

  “Lincoln had better be wise, or he will have to pay the penalty.”

  David O’Malley studied the footprints in the red dirt of the barn floor. No mistake—these belonged to Matthew Daniels. He stood and scratched his head. Where could they have gone?

  “Ain’t nobody up here,” Harry called down from the loft.

  David didn’t figure there would be, not unless the girl was up there cowering. But, since he didn’t see any female prints in the soft ground, he hadn’t expected to find anything.

  “I knew he would turn on us,” Benson said after spitting a stream of amber tobacco liquid on the ground. “I done told you he was too much of a risk.”

  David frowned but didn’t respond. Why had Daniels left? Perhaps he had a good explanation. David was reluctant to give up on him just yet. He’d seen the desperation in the man’s eyes when he’d lost his brother, and desperate men were a fearsome force. All he needed to do was focus Daniels in the right direction. “We stay here for the night.”

  Harry dropped down from the final rung of the creaking ladder. “What for? I told you ain’t nobody here.”

  “I can see that. Still, we are going to wait.”

  Benson spat again. “Gettin’ dark anyway.”

  Harry shrugged. “I reckon.”

  David stepped outside into the gathering dusk and studied the farmhouse on the hill. The warm glow of lamplight flickered in the window and brought a sudden pang of memory. He’d once had a home like that – a warm haven from the world.

  The thin curtain suddenly swept back, revealing a man in the window holding a rifle. David held up his hand and opened and closed his right fist three times. The man in the window did the same, then dropped the curtain. David let out his breath. They would be safe here tonight.

  David turned away from the inviting scene and the memories it provoked. The barn would be the only place for him. He would not let himself long for the comforts of the life he’d lost until he saw this thing completed. That was part of his penance. He would better honor them by moving forward.

  Someone came to stand beside him, halting his tumbling thoughts. Without glancing over, he knew it to be Benson. The smell of tobacco always surrounded the man like a swarm of flies and gave warning of his presence.

  Once, the smell had been sweet to him, calling up the thoughts of relaxing in front of a fire with a pipe at the end of a hard day of labor. Now, it only churned his stomach. He scowled. “Speak, man, if you have something to say. Don’t just stand there.”

  Unfazed by David’s mood swing, Benson made a sucking sound as he cleaned bits of tobacco from his teeth, then spat again. The muscles in David’s jaw worked, but he refused to repeat himself.

  “We’re not just staying here to bed down for the night, are we? You’re waiting on him.”

  “I am.”

  Benson leaned back against the side of the barn and began picking at his teeth with an overgrown fingernail.

  “We need him,” David said. Why he suddenly felt the need to explain himself to this lout was questionable.

  Benson watched him for a moment. “Well, you keep saying that, see, and we are startin’ to wonder why you put such a priority on a man who hasn’t even been with us for a week. How do we know he’s not out there now, betraying us?”

  “He’s not.”

  “How do you know?” Benson pressed, his eyes narrowing.

  David drew a deep breath and looked up at a group of clouds turned pink and orange with the final rays of the sun. Such beautiful colors. People rarely bothered to enjoy them. “Benson, have you ever noticed the way the sky erupts with color when the sun sets?”

  The man grunted. “Yeah. What of it?”

  David closed his eyes. With Liza gone, who would be left to appreciate such things? He turned his focus back on the scrawny man in front of him. “Nothing.”

  Benson pushed off the wall and stepped in front of David, so close David could see the flakes of brown tobacco in the crevices of his yellowed teeth. David took a step back, though not because he was intimidated. No, he simply preferred to look into the taller man’s eyes without craning his neck.

  “Now look here,” Benson said. “Just because you are the closest to Booth doesn’t make you the leader here.”

  Didn’t it? What did they know of the plan other than the crumbs David had shared with them? He kept a smirk from twisting his mouth and merely waited for Benson to continue.

  “We want to know what’s going on with this Daniels fellow.”

  “Yeah,” Harry said, stepping outside to join them. “We’ve got a right to know.”

  David let out a long sigh, demonstrating his disappointment with their lack of trust in his leadership. “The plan was for Daniels to meet us here. Maybe he just went into the woods to catch a rabbit or something. He’ll be back.”

  The two men exchanged a loaded glance, and David felt a spike of uneasiness course through his veins. If there was anything he’d learned from this cursed war, it was how to sense danger. If he didn’t offer up another morsel, these two were liable to cause him more trouble than they were worth. He didn’t want to have to dispose of them, but he would, if he had to.

  What would it hurt to treat them to a little play of logic? “Have either of you ever seen him?” David asked, crossing his arms.

  “Who?” Benson asked. “Daniels? Of course we have. We was all in the same regiment.”

  David shook his head. “No, you lout. The man whose name we do not speak.”

  Harry perked up. “I saw a sketch of him once, in the paper. He’s got a funny beard and a real angular-like face, like he’s half-starved or somethin’.” He scrunched his nose, making him look like a wrinkled rat. “Looks like a man like him could afford to eat some more.”

  David lifted his brow but ignored the imbecile. He turned to Benson, who appeared to be in thought. Benson pulled on the scraggly hairs protruding from his chin, a motion he did whenever faced with something that caused the rusted cogs in his brain to turn.

  “We’ve never seen him, O’Malley, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with Daniels.”

  Disappointed the train didn’t leave the station, David explained. “Oh, it has everything to do with him. You see, our quarry is an unnaturally tall man. Whether you’ve ever seen him or not, everyone knows he stands more than a head above most men.”

  The two fools nodded eagerly, as if remembering where they’d stashed a sweet.

  “That’s right,” Harry said, his head bobbing. “He sure does.”

  They stood there dumbly, neither possessing the ability to come to any logical conclusions on his own. Like hounds without snouts, he’d have to lead them
down the trail. Smothering his frustration, David spoke slowly, so as to allow them to keep pace. “So, how do you suppose to capture a man of such size?”

  Benson made a harrumph. “He’s skinny as a rail. His height won’t make no difference.”

  Harry glanced at Benson. “Don’t know about that. You’re thinner than a sickly girl, and yet you still beat me at a strong arm contest every time.”

  Benson puffed out his chest, stepping into Harry’s space. “What did you call me, you cur?”

  David thrust his arms in between them and shoved, sending both men stumbling backward. They regained their balance and stared at him.

  “Enough. He’s managed to snag the truth of it, Benson.” The man clenched his teeth, and David hurried on before he ended up in a senseless downpour of swinging fists for delivering a perceived slight. “You can’t tell me most men don’t underestimate your strength. I’d guess that’s exactly why you challenge them to a contest, am I right?”

  Benson’s shoulders relaxed, and he deflated somewhat but kept his eyes trained on David.

  “As I thought. They take one look at you, figure they’ll beat you right easy, and end up losing their coins.”

  Benson frowned. “Well, yeah. How’d you know that?”

  Because not everyone is as thick-skulled as you, David thought, but instead said, “It is only because I thought the same myself, my friend, until I watched you push over two separate men, each with arms twice as thick as your own.” An exaggeration, but it would play to the fool’s pride.

  Sure enough, Benson puffed out his chest, and David half-expected him to start strutting like a pup with a fresh bone in its jowls.

  “I see it now,” Harry said, understanding dawning in his dull eyes. “You can’t take the chance that a man that size won’t be stronger than we think. You need someone at least as big as him to be the one to snatch him, so it’ll be quick-like.”

  David smiled. “See? There you have it. Well done.”

  Harry grinned, obviously pleased with himself. Benson remained silent, his bushy brows settled low. David wasn’t sure if he was disappointed he hadn’t made the conclusion first, or if he was still befuddled altogether. Better help him along, just in case. “And have either of you ever seen a man as tall or as stout as Daniels?” David asked.

  They both shook their heads.

  “Then you see why I chose him.”

  Benson tugged at the scruff on his pointed chin again. “But that don’t mean nothing if he’s run off and is sharing our secrets.”

  David looked back to the sky, but the light had faded, the beauty of the sunset having been trampled by the two clods with whom he was forced to share it. He let out a sigh at the loss and continued the cyclical conversation. “Daniels wants his brother back, and he’ll do anything to get him. That’s motivation enough.”

  “How you gonna do it, O’Malley?” Harry asked. “Can you really find Daniels’s brother in all them camps?” His voice actually sounded hopeful, though David couldn’t fathom why.

  “I can try, though the man will probably be long dead by then.”

  The silence confirmed their confusion, but he was growing tired of dragging them along, so he dismissed them and stepped inside the barn. All he needed was Daniels to believe he would get his brother back. Once they had their leverage, Daniels would have to be dealt with. A shame, really. Daniels seemed the type who would be fiercely loyal, if he chose.

  David hauled himself up to the loft and settled down into the moldy hay. Below, the boys were complaining about having nothing more than hardtack and jerky and were rambling on about imagined feasts. David ignored them. What was food but a necessary product to keep the body moving? If he needed to, he could go several days before he had to find a meal to keep his mind clear. He didn’t need to eat tonight.

  He turned his thoughts back to Daniels, letting the concern he’d kept hidden from the cretins below take hold. What if Daniels really didn’t return? If he didn’t bring the girl, David might not ever find out what was in that note.

  He didn’t worry Daniels would disclose their plans; he knew too little for it to be of any value. Despite what he’d said, a good blow to the head would subdue any man, regardless of how tall and lanky. David didn’t think they actually needed Daniels as much as he’d let on. At least, not solely because of his size. But, Booth had insisted on muscle for the job, and David was determined he would be the one to deliver it. Maybe then he might actually get as close to Booth as the others believed he already was. He’d found the perfect prize. With a giant like that, Booth would surely be pleased and recognize David’s infinite value.

  David rolled to his side. He had no doubt he could convince Daniels to do the grab. David could have been just as famous of an actor as Booth himself, if he had joined the troupe. But, he didn’t regret his choice to care for Liza instead. No, he could never regret that. Besides, his skills served them better here. Who else could so easily slip on the countenance of any man he chose as if it were only a pair of shoes to be changed?

  David let his lids droop. Yes, it was too bad they couldn’t keep a man like Daniels for the duration of it. He would make a good guard. But there was too much hesitancy in Daniels’s eyes to make him a full member. Such a shame.

  The two dullards below, it having grown too dark for them to see, gave up on their foolish conversation and climbed up to settle down on the other side of the loft. Good. At least he wouldn’t be overwhelmed with their stench.

  “You sure he’s gonna come back?” Harry said, disturbing the silence a few moments later.

  “I’m quite certain, Harry. Now, go to sleep.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  David groaned, his mask slipping further the more the fatigue pulled at him. “My dear friend, it is as I have already told you. Daniels is a desperate man, and desperate men will do anything to get what they want.”

  “If you say so,” Harry said, then blessedly fell silent.

  David did not doubt. Desperation was the demon ever on his own shoulder, and he knew well what it could oblige a man to do. If Daniels’s heart was a mere portion as hollow as David’s own, David would have no trouble convincing Daniels to succumb to the sweet revenge that desperation always promised.

  “They all seem ready to do anything to secure success.”

  When the only sounds Matthew could distinguish were the chipper calls of crickets and his own tempered breathing, he abandoned the mat and crossed the room without the aid of candlelight. The doorknob turned easily in his hand, and he let out a sigh of relief. He’d almost expected to find it locked. He couldn’t trust the shopkeeper not to turn him in, and now he was more concerned for Miss Smith—or was it Ross?—than ever.

  He opened the door only wide enough to slip through, grimacing as the hinges made a soft squeak. Matthew stood with one foot in the hallway and listened. When it seemed he had not roused anyone, he felt his way along the hall and to a set of narrow stairs. Likely, he was in Black’s private dwelling located above his shop. The stairs made no noise to betray his descent, and he soon found himself in a small room behind the counter in the general store.

  A thought occurred to him, and Matthew crept through the shop, trying to find what he sought by the paltry moonlight coming through the two large front windows. Finally, when he’d nearly given up hope, he found them. Lined in a nice row, finding the boots was like discovering a hidden treasure. Excited, he began to judge the size of each pair; they seemed to be lined in increasing order.

  Despite the fact that he’d found more than he’d expected, each was much too small. The last pair on the line offered his only hope. He usually had to have his boots made. Finding a readymade pair that would fit him would be impossible. Still, he had to have something.

  Matthew pulled one onto his foot and stood. It pinched at his toes, which were bent and cramped, but it would be better than remaining shoeless. Besides, the leather would eventually stretch. He quickly pulled on the
other boot and laced it up, then stood looking down at his feet in the gloom.

  Matthew had never stolen a single thing in his life. Not even a sweet from the kitchen when the cook wasn’t looking. He shook his head. He had no money on him, and his only possessions were army-issued. Well, and his knife, which he would never part with. Clenching his jaw, he made his way to the rear of the store. He would have to remember to send payment through the post at his first opportunity.

  Slipping through the storage room, Matthew found the door at the rear that would lead him into the alley where he had been felled by the portly Mr. Black. He lifted the thick bar securing the door and propped it against the wall, then stepped out into the cold night air. The new boots would most likely leave blisters on his heels, but he ignored the discomfort and stepped into the alley.

  Now, which way had the girl gone? It would be harder to track her through town than it had been in the woods. He stepped into the place where she had tried to round the corner and had instead fallen into the young Yank’s arms. He stood where he had seen them, thinking. Had the meeting been planned or accidental? He looked to his right. Straight ahead was a long, narrow alley. They couldn’t have gone any other direction.

  Matthew walked carefully down the alley, trying not to overturn any garbage heaps or disturb any cats lurking in the shadows. At the end of the alley, he stepped onto a main street lined with darkened shops. Now what?

  He sighed. This was pointless. They could have gone anywhere and were likely deep in a Union camp by now. He turned and started walking in the direction he hoped was north, out of town and toward his encampment. Up ahead, warm light spilled onto the street, carrying with it the sounds of laughter and the merriment of people who had apparently forgotten they were at war.