“I’ll take a look at my children first.”
“Fine, dear. You do that, and then join us.”
Jace’s fever had risen a bit, but Chandler and Amelia slept on peacefully. After requesting a pan of cool water, Rosemarie bathed Jace until the little boy settled down again. Mrs. Kennedy had made a paste that she’d put on the children’s pox marks which seemed to sooth them. After applying the mixture once again to Jace, she kissed all three children on the forehead and returned to the parlor.
Dr. Kennedy folded his newspaper and laid it aside. “Mrs. Kennedy tells me your young man is not feeling hopeful.”
Rosemarie shook her head and settled on the settee alongside the doctor. “Afraid not. And I’m terrified the morning will come before I think of something to help.”
Her gaze shifted to the newspaper resting on the cushion. She scanned the headline. Governor Morton had issued a statement praising the Union Army and hoping for a quick re-joining of the Confederate states. She picked up the paper and began to read. The governor had given a speech in front of the Capitol building in Indianapolis. She smiled. Her former boss loved giving speeches.
We are happy to see the conflict come to an end. With my fellow Americans, I mourn the loss of so many brave men who gave their lives to keep the country intact. I also mourn the deaths of the brave men who fought with the Confederacy, believing their cause to be noble and right…
She skimmed the article, reading further down where the reporter added his own comments.
Although the Governor backed President Lincoln’s war measures, he had always denounced excessive military arrests, resisted the draft, and freeing Southern slaves until the president issued his emancipation proclamation on January 1, 1863…
Rosemarie’s heart banged against her chest and her mouth dried up. Governor Oliver Morton, the man she worked for years ago. The man who attempted to talk her father out of marrying her off at such a young age. Who’d taught her to read and write. He had been her champion then, and could be now.
She burst from the settee as if shot from a cannon. Mrs. Kennedy’s head snapped up and she grabbed her throat. “What is it, dear?”
“Governor Morton!”
“What about the governor?” Dr. Kennedy regarded her with wide eyes.
“He…he.” She swallowed several times. “He can help me.”
The doctor rose and gently pushed Rosemarie back onto the settee. “You’ve become quite pale, Mrs. Wilson, you need to calm down.” He eased her head between her knees and patted her back. “Take a deep breath, and then tell us what you mean.”
“I’m fine” she batted his hand away and stood again. “I worked for the governor when I was a young girl. I lived at his home, and he was always fond of me, treated me like a daughter in some ways. When my father arrived to tell me about my arranged marriage, Governor Morton gave him a tongue lashing.”
She bent and picked up the newspaper. “It says here that Governor Morton has always been against excessive military arrests.”
Rosemarie turned to them, both members of her audience staring at her with slack jaws. “Don’t you see? He might be able to stop Daniel from hanging.”
“But, the hanging is tomorrow, and the governor is in Indianapolis, a three hour ride from here,” the doctor protested.
“I don’t care. I have to try. This is my only chance, don’t you see?” She used her index finger to wipe tears from her eyes.
Mrs. Kennedy stood and embraced her. “Of course we understand, dear. Were I in your place, I’d do the same for Dr. Kennedy.”
“Thank you,” Rosemarie whispered.
“Well, if you’re making that trip in time to help Lt. McCoy, you need to get ready to go.” Dr. Kennedy stood and patted her on the shoulder. “You may use our horse, Mellow. That would be faster than a buggy.”
“Yes, faster.” Her words came out breathless.
“I’ll fix you a small meal to take with you.” Mrs. Kennedy quickly left the room.
Dr. Kennedy frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you riding alone that distance.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s a straight road, and hardly anyone travels it at night.”
“That’s precisely my problem with it.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll lend you my pistol to take with you.” He also hurried from the room, leaving Rosemarie pacing and wringing her hands.
This has to work.
She checked the cherry wood grandfather clock, taking up the entire corner of the Kennedy’s parlor. Fifteen minutes past eleven. If all went as she planned, she’d arrive at the governor’s mansion in the middle of the night. Should she wait? Leave closer to dawn? If only she knew what time Captain Nelson planned on departing in the morning.
No, she couldn’t take the chance. Even if she had to wake the governor from his bed.
Mrs. Kennedy bustled into the room. “Here, take this food with you, and my heavier jacket, it will keep you warm.”
Footsteps coming down the stairs caused both women to turn as Dr. Kennedy entered, waving a pistol.
“Doctor, for heaven’s sake, what are you doing?” Mrs. Kennedy screeched.
“This is for Mrs. Wilson to bring with her.”
“Oh, my goodness.” She patted her chest. “You scared me half to death!”
The road from Bartlett’s Creek to Indianapolis was, as expected, completely deserted. Most likely a vast amount of the citizenry were celebrating. The earth under the horse’s hooves allowed her to go at a quick pace. As a well-traveled road, it provided a solid ride.
Rosemarie shifted in the saddle and pulled the collar of the borrowed jacket up to cover her ears. The night air was chilly, and she thanked God for the Kennedys’ generosity.
Moonlight cast long shadows over snug little farmhouses and sizeable barns as she continued on her journey. The odor of fresh dirt from furrows of freshly plowed fields rose to her nostrils, the familiar smell comforting her. Silence was her only company, broken only by the heavy breathing from her and Mellow as she maintained a brisk pace.
Her thoughts drifted to Daniel. For the first time since she’d met Captain Nelson and his men on the road in town, hope filled her heart. Hope that she would have the man who had captured her heart and her children’s devotion. Memories of their time together before he left raised her temperature. She’d never imagined the joining of a man and a woman could be so wonderful. The only recompense she’d ever gotten from her intimacy with Hans were her three beautiful children.
Now that the initial excitement for her plan had worn off, fatigue engulfed her. Her backside hurt from the constant jarring of the horse. She shifted in the saddle, but no matter how she moved, after about ten or fifteen minutes, she was sore again. Maybe if she nibbled on the food Mrs. Kennedy had packed for her, it would help to keep her awake.
Munching on a juicy red apple, Rosemarie bent low over the horse and galloped on toward Indianapolis, praying the horse wouldn’t lose his footing in the dark.
Rosemarie banged on the Governor’s door for the third time. The inky black sky, with thousands of stars lighting it, confirmed it was still a few hours before dawn. She held her breath and rested her ear against the large wooden door. Yes. That was the sound of footsteps approaching. Someone fiddled with the lock and then the door opened. “Yes, miss?”
The servant had apparently been roused from his slumber. Rosemarie pushed the guilt aside. “Mrs. Rosemarie Wilson to see the Governor.”
White hair stood in tufts from his head as the servant regarded her, his eyebrows rising. “Madam, it is barely a few minutes past three o’clock in the morning.”
She nodded. “Yes. I know. May I come in and wait for him, please?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, repeating the action until he resembled a fish. “The governor won’t be receiving guests for several hours.”
Rosemarie ran her sweaty palms down the front of her dress. “Look, Mr….” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “It is a matter of l
ife and death that I speak with the governor as quickly as possible.”
When he moved to close the door, she slapped her hand against it. “Please. Please, sir, just let me wait inside until dawn. Then I really must insist you wake Governor Morton so I may speak with him.”
“Madam,” his voice rose, “kindly remove your hand from the door, or I shall summon the police.”
“What the devil’s going on down there, Billings? I’m surprised you haven’t woken the entire neighborhood.” Governor Morton hurried down the stairs, tying the belt of his silk dressing gown.
“I’m so sorry, Governor, but this woman insists on entering and waiting to speak with you.”
“For heaven’s sake, madam,” the governor pulled the door open. “You don’t knock on people’s doors…” He stopped, his eyes wide. “Is that you, Rosemarie?”
“Yes. It is me, and I need help. Right away.” With the door opened further, she edged her way into the entranceway.
“Of course, of course, come in. Please.”
The servant, suddenly seeming to notice his appearance, smoothed his hair and brushed the front of his red and white striped sleep shirt.
“Billings, show…” he glanced in Rosemarie’s direction.
“Mrs. Wilson,” Rosemarie added.
“Mrs. Wilson to the parlor. I will join her shortly.”
The servant bowed. “Yes sir.” He turned to Rosemarie. “Right this way, madam.” He conducted her to the parlor with all the dignity of a man dressed in the finest livery to be had in Indianapolis. Rosemarie covered her mouth with her hand to control the giggles as she followed him, his pale, hairy legs leading the way.
Three quarters of an hour later, Governor Morton entered the parlor, dressed as if it were two o’clock in the afternoon. He strode in his familiar manner, crossing the room in a few steps. “It’s so good to see you, Rosemarie.” He grinned as he took the seat across from her. “I just wish it were a bit later in the day.”
“I’m sorry to have arrived at such an hour, but I need a favor, and it was important I come right away.”
They both turned as Billings knocked lightly on the door and pushed in a cart filled with coffee, tea, biscuits, jam, and fruit.
“Ah, here we are.” The governor turned to Rosemarie. “I thought whatever you needed to discuss would go down much better with some food.”
Tears flooded her eyes at the familiarity of this home, this man. He’d been like a second father to her in the years she worked for him. A smidgen of guilt nudged at her with the realization that she’d not visited him since the day she left. Her eyes had filled with tears that day too, as he hugged her goodbye and she left with her meager belongings to a new life she’d had no say in.
Not that the years with Hans had been horrible. He’d never struck her, and provided well for her and their children. If there was no softness in the man, he at least didn’t make demands on her that she wasn’t comfortable with. She gave herself a mental shake. This reminiscing wasn’t solving her present problem.
The governor sipped from his coffee cup and leaned back, a look of pleasure on his face. “So what is this problem that brings you to my doorstep in the middle of the night?”
Rosemarie told her story, starting with Hans’ death, the months of fear and loneliness, and then Daniel’s arrival and all that evolved since then. When she finished, crumbs from the biscuit she’d worried into bits covered her lap.
Governor Morton was silent for a few moments after she finished, then he stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been against the brutality of this war.” He turned to her. “On both sides.” He stared into the distance and continued. “This war will go down in the history books as the worst conflict this great country of ours ever had.” He began to pace, lost in his thoughts. “Every single soldier who bled to death on the field was an American. Every limb cut from a screaming soldier belonged to one of us. We killed our own brothers, uncles, sons, and fathers. Battle fields in both the north and south are saturated with the blood of our young men. How shall we survive as a nation with so many of our promising youths dead or wounded?”
Rosemarie licked her dry lips. Time was passing, and she needed his help. The sky had lightened since she’d begun her story.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I realize you’re probably anxious to save your young man, and here I am rambling on as if I stood before an audience at a rally.” He grinned and took his seat. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I need someone with authority to stop Lt. McCoy’s hanging. The Commander at the camp has been called to Washington. You are the only person above Captain Nelson who can stop this.”
He gave her a curt nod. “Excuse me.” The governor rose and walked to the door, shouting for Billings. The servant appeared within seconds.
“I want you to take a note to the Western Union office right away.” He moved to a small desk in the corner and pulled out a piece of paper with the Governor’s Seal on top. Dipping his pen into the inkwell, he began to write.
Rosemarie took in a deep breath. Hopefully, the missive would reach the camp before Captain Nelson followed through with his plans. Then an idea formed that made her heart twist. She didn’t trust Captain Nelson. She chewed her lip as Billings left the room, the note in his hand.
“May I ask one more favor?” Rosemarie stood, her fingers clenched.
Governor Morton leaned back in his chair. “What else?”
“I have reason to believe Captain Nelson is taking this entire thing personally. I fear he may ignore the telegram.”
The governor frowned. “Surely he wouldn’t ignore a direct order from the Governor?”
“No, probably not. But, who’s to know when the telegram will arrive? Even if it’s later found he disregarded your instructions, it will be too late to save Lt. McCoy.”
He nodded and pulled another piece of paper from his desk drawer, and wrote again. “Here. I suggest you ride to Camp Morton with this in your hand.”
“Thank you so much. I will never forget your kindness.”
A slight flush rose on the governor’s face, and he waved her away. “Just go save your young man. That’s all the thanks I want.”
She bent and kissed him on the cheek.
“And don’t wait another nine years to visit again.”
With the paper in her hand, she left the house.
10
Daniel must have dozed off, as he was jarred awake by the sound of the cell door swinging open. “Got some breakfast here for ya, Lieutenant.” The sheriff held a small basket that he placed on the edge of the cot. “Haven’t seen hide or hair of Captain Nelson, so I thought I’d better feed ya. No telling how long they caroused last night.”
Rubbing his palms over his face, Daniel stood. “Thanks, sheriff. I appreciate it.”
“Sure seems ya got yourself in a lick of trouble.”
Daniel nodded. “Can I get some water? I’d like to clean up a bit.”
The sheriff swung the cell door closed and headed out toward the back. He returned a short while later with a pan of water and a small square of cloth. He slid them under the bars. “I’ll clean everything out when you’re gone.”
When you’re gone.
Today was most likely the last morning he would wake up. His eyes shifted to the small window where he’d touched Rosemarie’s hand last night, while he cursed the wall that separated them. Now the moonlight had disappeared, leaving the buildings across the street glowing in the orange haze of sunrise. How soon would the captain come for him? Would they hang him the minute they hit the fort, or give him time to contemplate his fate?
The water in the pan was cold, but it felt good on the injuries his face had taken yesterday. After cleaning his face and teeth, Daniel ran his wet fingers through his hair. He shoved the pan into a corner and pulled the basket to him. Two warm biscuits, jam, and a small jar of coffee. He unscrewed the lid and drank the hot, bracing liquid. Although they smelled wonderful, his
stomach rebelled at the thought of eating the biscuits.
Once he finished the coffee, Daniel stretched out on his cot, his hands behind his head. The ceiling above him was cracked, the paint chipped. His gaze roamed the room, the stark walls, small cot, slop bucket in the corner, and the bars on the cell door. Keeping him in, away from those he loved.
Before long his thoughts drifted to exactly where he didn’t want them to go. Rosemarie. The woman he’d intended to return to when the war was over. To marry her, love her, help raise her children. A slight smile hitched his lips.
Amelia with her hatred of oatmeal, the appreciation in her bright eyes when he’d made her scrambled eggs. The pride in Chandler as he held up a rabbit he’d shot the last time they hunted. And little Jace, giggling as his arms raised, wanting Daniel to put him on his shoulders. How he would have loved to see them all grow into adulthood.
The sound of footsteps and deep voices pulled him from his musing. Captain Nelson and two of his men stood outside his cell. The sheriff arrived right behind them, the ring of keys in his hand.
“Time to go, southern boy.” Captain Nelson sneered. “You ready to swing?”
Daniel muttered a curse under his breath and stood. He wouldn’t give Nelson the satisfaction of showing the fear that tightened his belly. “Anytime, Yankee.”
Captain Nelson scowled and nudged the sheriff. “Get the bastard out of there. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”
Once again Daniel’s hands were tied behind his back. They escorted him down the hallway and outside to the bright sunlight. Two other men and six horses gathered in front of the jailhouse. Across the street, several shopkeepers stopped sweeping and gossiping, and stared.
“How do you expect me to mount the horse with my hands tied?”
Nelson gestured to one of the soldiers standing next to him. The young man, not yet out of his teen years, quickly untied the leather strap. Daniel mounted the horse. “Don’t see as how I can ride either, with my hands tied up.”
“No matter, dead man. One of my men will have a gun pointed at your back the entire ride. Either swing from the rope or get shot in the back, makes no difference to me.”
The McCoy Brothers Boxed Set Page 10
