The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Matthew inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

  O’Malley beamed, and Matthew turned away before O’Malley could see the anger burning in his eyes. He snatched Harry’s arm and dragged him out the door.

  “The Yankee flag is to be raised over the battered walls of Fort Sumter on the anniversary of Anderson’s surrender. If Lincoln should go down there, we shall miss our promised game. He must not be lost sight of.”

  John Surratt

  Washington

  April 13, 1865

  Harry paced the floor and his endless steps soon began to beat in rhythm with the pounding in Matthew’s head. He rubbed at his temple, trying to get the throbbing to lessen.

  “I just can’t do it, Matthew,” Harry said, rubbing his hands as he made another pass around their small room.

  Matthew sat back on the bed, considering. O’Malley had seemed eager to accept Matthew back into the plan, but he’d also thought Matthew had set a beating down on Harry. O’Malley might be flooded with his ego, but he wasn’t a fool. Matthew pulled the throng of leather binding his hair tighter and rose to his feet, almost surprised at how long it had grown these last four years. Harry stopped pacing and craned his head to look up at Matthew.

  “You speak true, Harry. I see no other alternative than to trust you.”

  Relief, followed by surprise, lit Harry’s eyes. Then his eyes narrowed. “You tellin’ true, Daniels? You are going to just let me go now, after you’ve kept me locked in here for two days?”

  “I don’t see much of an alternative. I can’t keep you with me because O’Malley will know I didn’t pummel you. And, I can find a way to reason around why I didn’t bring your bloody face back for him to see.”

  Harry looked doubtful, but didn’t argue.

  “Besides, I don’t suppose you will go to the law any quicker than I will, seeing as how that will lead to too many questions.”

  Harry nodded. They had huddled in this rundown lodging, waiting to see if O’Malley would make a move against him and send the law running. Matthew feared that O’Malley may have suspected something after all and decided it best to keep out of sight for a few days.

  But nothing had happened, and both men were getting restless. Matthew decided it was time to make a move of his own, and, truthfully, Harry would be nothing but dead weight. He nodded toward the door. “Get on with you, then.”

  Harry dipped his chin and strode for the door, having no belongings other than the clothes on his back. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Matthew leapt up and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “If I hear even a whisper that you’ve tread on my mercy, Harry, you will find yourself sorely regretting it.” He squeezed the man’s shoulder until Harry winced, then let up only slightly.

  Harry’s eyes bulged and he bobbed his head. “I swear it. I want to get as far away from Washington and you fools as I can! Ain’t nobody’s cause worth swinging from a rope for.”

  Matthew released his grip and Harry darted out the door, not even bothering to shut it behind him. Matthew watched him take the steps two at a time and then disappear from sight. He rubbed at his temple again, hoping he had not just made a grave error. When he was certain the scrawny fellow had time enough to make his escape, he descended the stairs and walked past the front desk.

  “Mister?” the portly woman at the desk called.

  He paused, barely looking over his shoulder.

  “Tonight’s the last your coin will take you,” she said. “You either need to pay more, or gather your stuff.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He strode out the door, leaving her sputtering behind him. One final night, then he’d find himself without a place to put his head or a meal to fill his stomach. Not unless he begged to stay with O’Malley. The very thought made his teeth clench.

  Matthew hurried down the street, resisting the urge to nudge loiterers out of his path.

  If I haven’t used up all my miracles, I could sure use another.

  On the other side of town, Matthew looked up at the boarding house and put a dullard’s expression, or at least the best he could muster, on his face. He knocked and a moment later Mrs. Surratt pulled open the door. The smile on her lips dissipated when she saw Matthew.

  “Mr. Daniels. How pleasant to see you again.” Her words might have been kind, but her tone was as sour as an unripe lemon.

  Matthew inclined his head. “Good day to you, ma’am. I’ve come to call on Mr. O’Malley. Is he available?”

  She eyed him a moment, but finally conceded. “Yes. He is here.” She opened the door wider to give him entrance. He stepped through the door and removed his hat and coat, leaving them on the pegs by the door.

  Mrs. Surratt gestured toward the parlor. “I would offer for you to take your leisure in the parlor while you wait, but it is currently occupied.” She arched her brows. “Besides, I know you will likely refuse the courtesy anyway.”

  Matthew gave a small bow in lieu of a reply. She turned on her heel and gestured for him to follow her up the stairs. When they reached the top, she motioned to the second door. “He’s in there.” She turned back and started down the stairs again before he could reply.

  Matthew tugged on the collar of his shirt, then stepped up to the door and gave a single, firm knock. Shuffling sounds came from inside, along with a bit of bumping around. Finally, O’Malley opened the door.

  “Daniels!” He flung the door wide. “You had me wondering when you were ever going to return.” He waved his hand for Matthew to enter. “Hurry, let’s not waste any more time.”

  Matthew struggled to contain his surprise at the greeting, and plastered a smile on his face. “Forgive me,” he said as O’Malley closed the door behind him. “I had to make sure Harry wouldn’t be found, and that my trail wouldn’t trace back to you.” Not exactly a lie.

  O’Malley waved his hand, distracted. “Never mind him. We’ve more to deal with.” He started to pace, much the way Harry had done just an hour earlier.

  Matthew stifled a groan and put on a submissive look. “Yes, sir. Whatever you say.”

  O’Malley paused in his pacing and looked hard at Matthew. He stared back at O’Malley blankly. After a moment, O’Malley reached over and slapped Matthew’s shoulder. “There’s a good lad.”

  Matthew seethed. Lad? He’d been this imbecile’s captain just three months ago! He tried to contain himself, but his fist clenched at his side. O’Malley seemed too distracted to notice, and started pacing again, a cascade of words bubbling out that Matthew determined were not really directed at him.

  “With both of them stalling, things will be on me to accelerate the cause.” He rubbed his hands, increasing the back and forth pace that reminded Matthew of a swinging pendulum. “Yes, yes, of course it would be so. I will not miss fate’s hand this time. Oh, no. Not this time.” He stopped, swinging his frenzied gaze back to Matthew.

  Matthew looked at the floor, pretending not to notice O’Malley’s decent into madness.

  “Well,” O’Malley said, coming to a stop and straightening himself. “There will be time for explaining later. First, we must plan.”

  Matthew tried to put the right amount of eagerness onto his face, and leaned in. O’Malley’s eyes gleamed as he plucked papers from his jacket and began to spread them across his bed. “Now,” he said, tapping a map. “The real work begins. We hold in our power the final hopes of our nation, and the coming glory of a new tide.”

  A bead of sweat rolled down Matthew’s neck and down the back of his shirt, but his face held a fanatical smile of anticipation.

  “Our cause, being almost lost, means something decisive and great must be done.”

  John Wilkes Booth

  Annabelle straightened her shoulders. “I’m going, and that’s that.”

  Peggy placed both hands on her hips and looked down her nose at Annabelle. “Your grandma done told me that you is not to leave this here room ’til she gets back.”

  Annabelle strode toward the door
. “Well, then you’ll just have to stop me, seeing as you are taking orders from her now.”

  Peggy’s jaw fell slack and it took her a moment to catch Annabelle before she reached for the door. “Miss Belle! You know that ain’t a good idea. Can’t you just wait a bit longer?”

  Annabelle whirled around. “No! I will not wait any longer, Peggy!”

  Peggy wrung her hands. “I know you is upset, Miss Belle, but this ain’t the way to go about this.”

  “Then tell me, Peggy. What is the right way? Because sitting around this fancy hotel and going to shops while waiting has not done the first bit of good.” She pulled open the door and stepped out, not giving Peggy a chance to come up with anything that might stall her.

  Peggy followed her into the hall. “You know that man is dangerous. I can’t let you go try and talk to him. Ain’t no tellin’ what will happen.”

  Annabelle paused and looked back at Peggy. “I’m not going to speak to him, Peggy. I only want to see if I can find Matthew. He’s likely around there somewhere.”

  Down the hall, a door opened and Annabelle motioned to Peggy, indicating the conversation was over. Peggy scrunched her face, but held her tongue. Satisfied, Annabelle strode past several doors marked with the room numbers of the second floor, Peggy trailing along behind her like a petulant shadow.

  She neared the door that had opened just as a gentleman stepped out of the room marked 228. He’d dressed in a fine dark suit with a silk top hat and had a light overcoat slung over his arm. Like most Northern gentlemen, he didn’t seem to be aware that war had robbed half the nation of such finery.

  Just as Annabelle came upon him, he turned his face to her. She drew a sharp intake of breath and stopped suddenly, her heart thudding in her chest.

  No!

  Peggy, unprepared for the halt, was too close on Annabelle’s heels and did not stop in time. She stepped into Annabelle, tripping on the back of Annabelle’s long dress and losing her balance. Both women yelped, and Annabelle stumbled forward from the sudden shove on her back.

  The man reached out quickly and grabbed her elbow, steadying her before she could lose her dignity by sprawling face-first on the rug. He cast an annoyed glance back at Peggy, but Annabelle’s heart pounded too furiously for her mouth to garner a defense. Peggy made a strange noise in her throat, but Annabelle’s eyes were locked onto the man and did not see what expression Peggy wore.

  “I…um, thank you, sir….” she stammered. Did he recognize her?

  He offered a charming smile, one that no doubt had made him one of the most famous men in the country. As she stood there like a swooning admirer, he took his cane and popped up the brim of his hat. “Certainly, miss. Good day.”

  Annabelle licked her lips, finding her mouth nearly too dry to do the deed. “Good day,” she squeaked.

  He turned and strode down the hall, leaving Annabelle staring breathlessly after him. After several heartbeats, and when the man finally began to descend the stairs, Peggy leaned in close to her.

  “What was that all about?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

  Annabelle grabbed her skirts, remembering her wits. “Hurry! We need to follow him.”

  Peggy grabbed her arm, her own feet planted like a tree. “What you talkin’ about?”

  Annabelle snatched her arm away. “That’s Booth! The very man himself is staying on our floor, Peggy!”

  Peggy frowned. “That actor fellow?”

  “Yes, now let’s go!” Annabelle said, not wanting to waste any further time on needless words. She hurried down the stairs, Peggy mumbling at her heels. Annabelle paid her no mind. They had been staying in this hotel for days! Had he been here all along? Was it a mere coincidence or had he known and was keeping her close? He didn’t seem to have recognized her either time she’d seen him, but then, any actor of merit would be able to hide such a thing, wouldn’t he?

  She walked as briskly as she dared without drawing attention through the main lobby of the hotel and out the front doors. Outside, she paused. Where did he go? She looked down both sides of the street, but the man had disappeared. Annabelle sighed.

  “Do you need a carriage, miss?” A young man asked, appearing at her side.

  “No,” Annabelle said, waving him away. “I’m not going far.”

  The young man dipped his chin and turned to an older couple stepping out into the mid-morning sun, not seeming bothered by Annabelle’s rudeness.

  Annabelle lifted her heavy skirts to avoid the dust and started off in the direction of the Surratt house. As she suspected, Peggy refused to walk at her side, and trailed silently along behind as she passed people going about their business, none of them aware of the plots that unfolded around them.

  The very mood of the city was one of joy and celebration as the people shed the heavy yolk of war and looked forward to peaceful days. Even the buoyant mood of the people and the warmth of a long-awaited spring could not lift Annabelle’s worry. Every moment she had been forced to wait on others’ dragging feet was a moment her anxiety had grown.

  Grandmother’s lawman friend had done nothing, it seemed, and Annabelle feared they did not take her warning seriously. What about Mr. Clark, the driver? Wouldn’t he have given merit to the tale?

  Annabelle clenched her teeth and walked faster, knowing she made Peggy struggle to keep pace. She needed to find out O’Malley’s plans, if she had any hope of thwarting them again.

  Annabelle passed by shops and the stables where they’d first found Lincoln’s driver. The very fact that they had entered the same stable, at the same time, was nothing short of a miracle. Had that only been a few weeks ago? She felt as though she’d already lived a decade in these last weeks. They passed by the White House and the eatery where they had met with Mr. Crook, and finally approached the Surratt boarding house.

  It wasn’t until the building came into sight that Annabelle’s heart began to hammer. She paused, standing underneath the limbs of a struggling tree, pretending to need a moment’s rest. Peggy stood silently by her side, watching. Annabelle had no doubt that if she were to get closer, Peggy would again protest, but for the moment they both seemed content simply to watch the house. She probably should have come up with some sort of plan before storming out here. What was becoming of her wits?

  Annabelle looked at the staircase that led to the front door of the narrow boarding house and absentmindedly reached into the pocket of her skirt. Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the little silver horse Matthew had given her on those very steps, the day of her twentieth birthday. An ache settled on her, but she pushed it away and removed her hand from the trinket.

  Oh, please, Matthew, please be safe.

  “What you think staring at that house is gonna do?” Peggy asked, drawing Annabelle from her thoughts.

  Annabelle lifted her chin, a motion which gained a scowl from Peggy. “Would you rather I go on over and see if I can have a chat with Mrs. Surratt instead?”

  Peggy shivered. “No, ma’am. I ain’t ever cared for that woman.”

  Annabelle smirked. “I thought not.” She chewed her lip, her momentary smugness evaporating. “I need to find out what they are doing, but I don’t have the slightest idea how. I don’t even know if they are still there.”

  “Foolish, I’d think, if they was.”

  Annabelle sighed. “You’re probably right. Come on, let’s just go and talk to the law. I’ll speak to all of them in this city until someone takes me seriously.”

  Annabelle turned away, but she’d not taken two steps before Peggy caught her arm. Startled, Annabelle frowned. Peggy did not usually grab hold of her in public. “Peggy, what are you…?” the words died on her lips as she noticed Peggy’s rounded eyes.

  Annabelle followed her gaze back toward the front of the house. She gasped.

  Matthew’s unmistakable form strode down the stairs, in step with David O’Malley. The two men seemed to be talking amiably, both with smiles on their faces. Annabelle and Peggy stood dumb
founded as the two men began to walk away. O’Malley slapped Matthew on his shoulder, and the bigger man laughed as they turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

  Panic rose in her chest, and they stood there for several moments as the horrible truth finally began to sink in.

  Annabelle reached into her pocket and grabbed the little horse, meant to give her hope, and clutched it so tightly that the horse’s metal ears dug into her palm and began to draw blood. Tears gathered in her eyes, burning with the fury that rose within her.

  Here she had been worrying herself nigh onto sickness over him, hardly eating, barely sleeping, her muscles so tight they felt as though they would snap, and for what?

  No, the tears that burned in her eyes and slid down her clenched jaw were not the manifestations of grief, but of seething anger. Matthew had lied to her…again.

  And when she got her hands on him, she would see to it that he too knew the biting sting of pain that had already begun to poison her.

  “For years I have devoted my time, my energies, and every dollar I possessed to the furtherance of an object. I have been baffled and disappointed. The hour has come when I must change my plan.”

  John Wilkes Booth

  Washington

  April 14, 1865

  9:00 AM

  I do not want to go to some silly play, Grandmother,” Annabelle said, ignoring the two dresses Grandmother held out. She plopped down in her dressing chair and shot Peggy a look that said she’d better give Annabelle’s hair a break. Already all the tugging on her tangles had given her a headache.

  “You haven’t even heard my reasoning,” Grandmother scoffed.

  Annabelle groaned. “Reasoning? You always have some reason or another to try to keep me preoccupied.”

  “You do not trust me, do you?” Grandmother asked, lowering her hands and letting the two dresses she held skim the floor.