The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Annabelle looked up at him sharply, his words surprising her. “I…do not understand.”

  Matthew tilted his chin to the sky, searching as though the twinkling stars could give him the words he sought. “Aside from the fact that I do not think any man should be murdered in such a way, I think that once the South has lost this cursed war, Lincoln will keep the repercussions in check.”

  Annabelle watched him closely, wondering at what point his fervent Confederate loyalty had waned. He looked down at her, as if sensing her thoughts. “Do not be fooled. I still despise the man who brought his army into our lands and destroyed us for simply holding to our way of life.”

  Annabelle said nothing, and after a moment he turned from her and stared at the shed. Harry had been silent, even with his gags undone. She didn’t know if he could hear their words or not. She drew a steadying breath, remembering the day she had seen Lincoln speak at the capitol, at his second inauguration. “He seems the type to me that would seek healing and not punishment,” she said carefully, watching Matthew as she spoke. “He said with malice toward none.”

  “I feel the same,” he replied. “If they haul Lincoln off to Richmond and have him murdered, the rage of the North will know no bounds. They already outnumber us by far, and they are well supplied. Take the man they look to with such awe away from them and stain the South with his blood, and rather than cripple the North, O’Malley will only drive them into a frenzy.”

  Annabelle swallowed the lump gathering in her throat. “What do we do?”

  Matthew scowled. “We do nothing. I am taking Harry back to Washington and finding O’Malley. You are staying here, where it is safe.”

  Hot words flew to her tongue, but she bit them down. Raise a fuss now and he would only find more ways to ensure she stayed. Better to find another path when he wasn’t so riled. She smoothed her skirts and kept her words even. “Of course, you are right. I shall stay here and see to George’s care, and we will wait for your return.”

  Matthew seemed surprised for only a second, then gave a curt nod and turned back toward the shed. “Best be getting on back inside now, while I have a little talk with our friend.”

  Annabelle watched him stalk back to the shed door and began to pray forgiveness for the lies she was already planning to tell.

  “He is both powerful and desperate. I felt like being uncivil to him, but thought it might excite suspicion.”

  John Surratt

  March 30, 1865

  Washington

  A tap at his door drew David’s attention from the maps he’d been studying. He tucked them away in his satchel before going to open the door. Mrs. Surratt’s eyes darted around his room as she always did when he opened the door to her. And again, he pretended not to notice.

  He had no doubt she searched his things whenever he left, which was why he kept his most important information on him at all times. He displayed the friendly smile he’d been using on her since he first started receiving meals with the Yanks. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I hope the day has been pleasant for you?”

  She gave a slight sniff, as if something about his aroma offended her, and then put on a practiced smile herself. “Indeed, it has been quite lovely. I enjoyed a nice tea with my son.”

  David’s mask threatened to slip, but he kept it in place. He summoned a look of pleasant surprise and kept his tone casual. “Oh, I did not know John was back in town. Thank you for coming to fetch me, as I would enjoy visiting with him as well.”

  Mrs. Surratt held up a spindly hand as David made a move to step around her. “He has already gone. He has much business to attend to.”

  David gave a shrug, maintaining an air of nonchalance. “Of course. Another time, then.” He stepped back again, waiting to see what she’d come for. He didn’t think her the type simply to come to him only to flaunt the fact that her son had not wanted to see him. But the longer she hesitated, the more he guessed that might actually be the case.

  Finally, the woman reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled forth a folded paper. She extended it toward him. “John regrets not being able to speak with you, but did ask that I pass along this letter.”

  David let a genuine smile scurry over his mouth. Finally! He had almost begun to fear they were trying to leave him out of the plans, though he’d often enough reminded himself how foolish that would be. He bowed to John’s mother and plucked the message from her fingers. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She stared at him a few seconds longer, but when he said nothing more, the crone finally relented. “Well, good afternoon to you then. I assume you will be with us for evening meal?”

  David shook his head. “No, I have matters to attend to this evening.” Like finding the bottom of a mug of ale and escaping your pitiful attempts at scrutinizing me in secret, he added to himself. His own cleverness turned up the ends of his lips.

  She inclined her head. “Very well.”

  He closed the door and waited until she had time to return below stairs before he unfolded the message she had undoubtedly already read. No names were given, neither in greeting nor in closure. Good. Then the letter would contain pertinent information and not just mindless dawdle.

  I regret that you have been left to your own while we have tried to figure out our next course of action. However, your patience has not been unappreciated. We will soon need all available hands for what is to come. Our mutual friend has decided that we can no longer be delayed, and after speaking with her and learning the information she has gleaned from the others, we feel that we must act with the utmost haste.

  David paused, then read the words again. The mutual friend was by no doubt Booth, but who was she? He thought on it a moment and then his blood heated. Of course. John’s mother, the crone who seemed to have her long nails into everything they did. Her son still sniveled at her bosom like a babe. He almost crunched the paper between his fists, thinking about the smug look on her face. Booth had met with the woman, when he could not even be bothered to speak to him? His agitated gaze scurried to the next line.

  Our friend has decided to go on to New York, where he has important business.

  David paused again, reading the line once more. The blood that had run hot suddenly turned icy. What could Booth be doing in New York? Did he suspect Daniels the same as David had? Would he get hold of the man before David had the chance and take the glory of thwarting a traitor for himself? His eyes darted back to the page.

  I ask that you remain here in Washington, keeping your ears open and your eyes sharp. All seems likely to go on well, and we have men in place who are ready to cooperate at the proper moment, so that we cannot fail this time.

  David frowned and began to pace his small room. He was to stay here and do nothing while the others planned? His stomach clenched. It had been days, and still no response from Harry. Had Booth captured him in New York as well? To what end?

  His hands began to shake with fury, and he forced himself to calm. It was only his over-taxed mind coming up with such wild stories! They knew his value, and his loyalty to the Cause stood unequaled. John simply did not have time to waste on idle talk, and he knew that David had the wit to read the meaning that must go unwritten. While the others scrambled about running errands, David could be trusted to see past men’s lies and catch the true meaning of words they tried to speak in code. He alone had the mental fortitude to gather the information the group needed here in Washington. Of course, it made perfect sense. How could he have thought otherwise, even if only for an instant?

  I know I have no need to say it, but to ease my own mind, I ask you to remember that even the slightest remark to the wrong person can upset all we have strived to achieve.

  David snorted. Of course it did not need to be said. He knew the consequences of a wagging tongue and a blundering remark. But if it eased John’s own fragile mind to put it to paper, he wouldn’t begrudge the man the comfort.

  I have learned of something I feel will be of great interest t
o you. I have finally recovered our lost message and was able to use a cipher to decode its meaning. It is of little importance now, as it is months old, but since you were the one who discovered who had stolen it, I thought you would like to know the contents.

  A thrill tingled up his spine. He knew that harlot had taken their message! Oh, she’d fooled the others, but David had always known.

  At the time, he’d only known that a message would soon be delivered and that the plans of those still out of his reach would be detailed within it. The girl bringing the stolen message had actually been a blessing, a sign that David was meant for greatness and that his righteous quest for Liza’s justice would be honored. That the lost message would arrive at his camp, even after they had joined with another regiment and left their own position? How could it be anything other than fate?

  He turned his hungry eyes back to the page. This message had launched him from the fringes to the very heart of the battle.

  The message read: Descendants of the Cavaliers, the time we have looked to is nigh upon us. The trap is ready to be sprung, and the key players have joined our ranks. It is time for us to step into the light and to take up our given duties. We will make the move before the woodsman takes second oath.

  Second oath. They had planned on taking the lumbering oaf before the second inauguration. If the message had not been first lost and then found its way into David’s life, would they have attempted the heist without him? He couldn’t know. But fate had seen to it that he would be the one to bring the giant Booth had required and transport himself to the forefront of Booth’s attention. How the man could have forgotten their time together as actors before the start of the Northern Aggression spoke to Booth’s wantonly latent memory, but such things were of no consequence now.

  Fate had seen to it that David received his rightfully deserved position of power, just as it should be. And though the harlot had run off and proven herself a Union spy, her schemes had all failed. She’d been forced to return North in failure. Now, she and the giant were both out of his way. He had to let go of his curiosity about whether Daniels’s desperation would prove his downfall and not forget that fate had dealt him justly thus far. Daniels’s cowardly retreat and the fact that Harry had gone missing were merely distractions to be ignored. Fate simply worked to set him on task again, removing such things from him so he could focus on what was important.

  Besides, the harlot and the coward were of little consequence. And Harry, the fool, was just a blunt tool ready to be discarded anyway. He’d likely walked off a bridge or some other thing predestined to a dullard not even bright enough to order his own steps. So David need not worry over the missing dimwit, either. He turned his eyes back to the paper and scanned the final lines.

  Report to her if you find anything of note, as I will be checking back with you through her to keep ties unseen.

  David breathed a sigh of relief despite himself. What a fool he’d been! Of course Booth and Surratt had kept their distance from him, and likely from one another as well. It made sense they should keep apart to avoid any suspicions that the tyrant’s driver might have roused after that day on the road.

  New faith in John’s wits welled. His use of his mother proved more cunning than it first appeared. Who would think that a lowly boarding woman would be the link between such powerful men? David nodded to himself. Yes, best they keep their team a secret and maintain their distance, at least for now.

  He read the lines twice more, and then, breathing easy for the first time in weeks, tucked it away inside his jacket with his other important documents.

  “Received a dispatch today from Booth. How well the cipher works! Who could tell that so important a secret was concealed under the simple message?”

  John Surratt

  Smith House

  New York

  March 31, 1865

  Annabelle watched the wagon lumber down the road, the first shoots of the sun’s rays barely peeking through the trees that swayed in the wind as Matthew’s figure drew away. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders and glanced back at the door, but no one, not even the household help, had yet arisen.

  Since she’d discovered Harry in Grandmother’s potato shed, Annabelle’s stomach had been in such knots that she’d been unable to sleep wondering if he would be discovered or perhaps escape. All night she’d listened for stealthy footsteps in the hall, seeking revenge.

  She’d finally given up on sleep and had been waiting on Matthew in the stable when he readied to leave. If she had not been there so early, she doubted Matthew would have told her anything before going on his way. She’d tried to stamp down her frustration, but once again failed.

  When the wagon reached the edge of the drive, Annabelle strained her sight to see if Matthew would turn back and look, but his frame remained rigid. Harry sat next to him on the driver’s bench, his hands and feet bound. Neither of them spared a glance behind. As soon as they were out of site, Annabelle gave a dismissive shake of her head and slipped back through the front door. The curtains were still drawn, and she had to use the banister to find her way up the main staircase in the dim light.

  At the top of the stairs, she turned to the left and made her way down the dark hall without bothering to strike the lamp hanging from the hook on the wall. Glancing behind her and seeing no one yet emerging from their rooms, Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door to her chamber. She slid through, and then closed it gently behind her.

  Annabelle leaned against the door and closed her eyes, trying to calm her fears over what would happen to Matthew when he met again with the conspirators. Would he keep his word to stop them, or would he be drawn back into their schemes?

  “And just what do you think you is doin’?”

  Annabelle yelped and her hand flew to her thudding heart. “Peggy! You nearly scared the life from me. What are you doing in here?”

  The older woman crossed the room from where she’d stood by the marble hearth, fire poker still in her hand. The other hand she placed on her hip. Even with only the glowing embers and the tiny bit of light peeking through the cracks in the curtain, Annabelle knew that Peggy’s eyebrows had lifted all the way up to the red scarf wrapped around her head. “I’s doin’ what I do every mornin’. Now, why’s you up and about this early in the day?”

  Annabelle pulled her lip through her teeth. A lie sprung to her tongue about coming in from doing her business out in the privy, but she held it back. She’d become far too quick to deceive and she’d hurt Peggy with her lies more than once. “I was watching Matthew leave.”

  “What you mean?”

  Annabelle crossed the thick blue rugs and pulled open the heavy drapes to let in the sunrise. Then she returned to the hearth and stretched out her hands, though the chill became less each morning and she didn’t really need the warmth. “He is going back to Washington because those scoundrels are going to attempt their foolish plan once more.”

  Peggy came to stand by her side, the job of stoking the flames forgotten. “They’s still goin’ to try to run off with the president?”

  Annabelle grabbed a small log from the stack and placed it on top of the charred leftovers from the night before. The embers glowed brightly, and soon small flames licked at the new tinder. “They are. And, Matthew says they have moved from simple abduction to planning an assassination.”

  “Murder?” Peggy squeaked.

  Annabelle wrapped her arms around herself. “We can’t let them, Peggy. We need to tell someone.”

  “Oh, Lawd. Not this here mess again!” Peggy wailed. “I finally done got you somewhere safe, with plenty to fill your belly and no one tryin’ to wipe his boots on you. We ain’t doin’ this again, Miss Belle, we just ain’t!”

  Annabelle pressed her fingers into the rose day dress she’d borrowed from Lilly and watched the fear and annoyance play across Peggy’s face. “What shall we do then?” she asked softly. “Let a man be abducted and possibly murdered when our
knowledge could see it thwarted?”

  Peggy shook her head and turned away, busying herself with straightening the bedclothes. Peggy always kept her hands occupied when something vexed her. Annabelle allowed her a few moments to think on it.

  By the time she placed the last fluffed pillow and smoothed the blanket on top, Peggy’s composure had returned. She turned back to Annabelle with stern features. “I know you is right, at least on account of we can’t stand by and see a man’s life taken.” She crossed back to Annabelle and turned her back to the flames. “What’s the Captain goin’ to do in Washington?”

  “He says he is going to try to stop them.”

  Peggy looked satisfied. “Now, that’s good, ain’t it? Someone is goin’ to do the tellin’, and you is goin’ to stay right here, where it’s safe.”

  Annabelle twisted her fingers in her skirts and looked down at the floor. “Of course.”

  Peggy touched her arm. “What is it, Miss Belle?”

  “What if….” Annabelle ran a hand down her face. “What if he decides to join them again instead?”

  Peggy creased her brow. “What would he do that for? He done got his brother, and they ain’t got nothin’ to entice him with no more.”

  “But what if Harry comes up with something? If they really are planning on killing him, he’s not safe going back to Washington!”

  Peggy grabbed Annabelle’s shoulders, giving her a shake. “Girl, what you mean Harry is goin’ to come up with somethin’? And what’s this about killin’? You ain’t talkin’ about the president this time, is you?”

  Annabelle hung her head and told Peggy all about finding Harry in the shed and what Matthew had told her about O’Malley’s plans to have Matthew murdered.

  Peggy huffed. “Well, there’s the reason you’s been walkin’ around like they’s eggs under your feet. And here I thought it was ’cause you was caught between them two brothers.”