Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
THE RETRIBUTION OF LEVI BASS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY G. MICHAEL HOPF
PROLOGUE
OCTOBER 17, 1865
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
A cold wind from the north swept over Isaac Grant, chilling him to the bone. He stamped his feet against the hard frozen ground with hopes he’d get his blood moving.
It was still fall, yet a frigid cold snap had settled over the city, bringing with it freezing temperatures and causing many to worry that winter was coming early.
Though the war had ended months ago, many resources were being diverted south to help with reconstruction; this included much-needed coal to those rebelling states that had for so long been without. This, however, left a shortage in the northern states. With the shortage driving up prices and the threat of an early and harsh winter, many at Tammany Hall were concerned that the city could be thrust into a state of unrest if they couldn’t find a way to remedy the issue. Most houses and tenement buildings were outfitted with coal stoves, the days of wood burning in the city were long gone except for those wealthy who still had them in certain rooms and living spaces. Steam heat was also becoming popular; however, coal was needed to generate the steam in boilers located in basements.
The affairs of such things didn’t weigh on Isaac; no, his mind was on Lucy and the small box he’d been fidgeting with in his right coat pocket. He’d sent her a letter the morning before with instructions to meet him at Mariners Gate on Eighty-Fifth Street at six o’clock. As was normal for him, he arrived early.
Back and forth he paced, not just due to the cold but mainly because he was nervous. He was a man who had seen many things, including honorable service in the war as an officer in the Sixty-Seventh New York Volunteer Regiment. He’d seen his share of campaigns and combat, yet here he was on the cusp of something that vexed him like no other.
Anxious as to where she might be, he removed his pocket watch and opened it. Seeing it was five minutes past six, he grunted, “Where are you, Lucy?” He pocketed his watch and looked all around, hoping he’d see her smiling face coming his way. As the minutes passed, his anxiety turned to frustration. Questions quickly popped into his head. Had she not gotten the letter? Had her father, a man who made it abundantly clear that Isaac’s affections weren’t welcome, prevented her from coming? Or worse, did she choose of her own volition not to come?
Once more he pulled out his watch to check the time.
“Isaac!” a voice cried out from across the street.
He craned his head in the direction of the familiar voice and spotted Lucy waving. Seeing her brought a smile to his chilled face.
Lucy scurried across the street as fast as she could considering she was wearing a heavy dress and covered up with a thick winter coat. “I’m so sorry I’m late, my dear,” she said, embracing him warmly.
As her arms wrapped around him, his angst melted away. “It’s fine. I’m just happy to see you.”
“When I received the letter simply telling me to be here, I so wanted to know why. Are you well? Do you have news to tell me? Is it about the job with the law firm?” she asked, peppering him with questions.
Isaac had studied law in Albany and was hoping to find a position in New York at any firm that would take him, but each opportunity he presented himself to, he found obstacles. What he hadn’t counted on was the headwinds created by the elite class, who looked down on a middle-class man such as Isaac, who came from a fairly well-to-do family. His father hadn’t been rich but had created a business and fought to get his family status and his son an education.
“Shall we take a walk?” he asked, holding his arm out.
“Let’s,” she said with a sweet smile as she took his arm.
They entered the park, slowly walking along one of the many paths there.
“I want to thank you for coming out. I know it wasn’t easy for you, considering your father,” Isaac said.
“I pray you will forgive me,” she said.
“Forgive you for what?” he asked, confused by her statement.
“I wasn’t truthful to my father. I hope you don’t think I often lie or misrepresent myself.”
“Heavens no, I know your father, and let me preface what I’m about to say with the fact that I do believe he’s a great man, but we both know he doesn’t hold me in high regard, so I expected you would have to…”
“Lie?” She chuckled.
“I didn’t want to say that word, but yes, lie,” he said, laughing.
Tugging on his arm with excitement, she said, “So tell me.”
“Tell you?”
She gave him an awkward look and asked, “Did you forget why you asked me to come here?”
“Oh no, not at all,” he said.
“Then tell me,” she pressed.
“Lucy, as you know, I’ve been through a lot in my life. After graduation I expected to work for a law firm in Albany near my family; then the war began. Like any man, I did my duty and volunteered. At the time I thought the war had upended my life, and may even kill me; yet I survived, and out of the horrors of it all, I found you. Can you imagine that? How can fate be so gracious? It was as if it was fate all along. I may not have ever found you had those rebels not seceded, forcing us to stop them.”
“Are you saying you’re grateful for the rebels?”
“In a way, yes, I am,” he replied. He collected his thoughts and continued, “Just when I imagined my life was going off course, you stepped in front of me at the hospital. I know many men tried to woo you, but you stood firm in your convictions and true to yourself. When I asked you if we could correspond, you said yes. Let me say that day is one of my fondest to remember.”
Stopping him, she stepped in front of him and took his gloved hands. “Isaac Grant, what are you doing?”
Looking deeply into her green eyes, he answered, “Lucy Mae Wagner, I stand here in awe of you.” He cleared his throat and dropped to one knee. Removing the box from his coat pocket, he opened it to reveal a small ring with a sapphire stone. Holding it up, he said, “I cannot imagine my life without you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
In shock she covered her mouth. Tears streamed down her chilled cheeks. Looking at the ring, she gushed, “It’s so beautiful.”
“It was my grandmother’s. My mother had it shipped to me. I promise when I get a position and start making money, I’ll get you your own.”
“Oh no, no, this is perfect. It’s so lovely,” she said, pinching the ring with her fingers and laying it on her open palm.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
Wiping her cheeks, she replied, “Yes.”
He jumped to his feet, removed the glove from her left hand, and placed the ring on her finger. “It fits perfectly.”
“It does,” she said as more tears appeared.
“I love you, Lucy,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss.
“I love you too,” she said.
They kissed and embraced with passersby smiling and giving their congratulations.
“I need to meet with your father soon and ask him for your hand,” Isaac said.
“Oh, how I want to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.” She laughed.
“I know he’ll disapprove at first, but I’ll win him over, I swear,” he said confidently.
>
“Father’s just getting over how the war turned out,” Lucy said, referring to her father’s deep ties to a group of anti-war democrats known as the Copperheads.
“He must see now how what we did was of value. We kept the Union together; that was the most important thing,” Isaac said, his tone turning to one of passion. He was a true believer in the cause he’d fought for and would defend it to anyone.
“You know him, he didn’t then, nor does he now, see how losing so many men was worth it,” she said.
“Well, the war is over; that is the past. We must now look to the future,” Isaac happily said.
“Agreed.”
“Shall I get you a cup of hot chocolate to celebrate our engagement?” he asked.
“That sounds like the perfect drink for the occasion, especially on an evening as cold as this,” she said, smiling sweetly.
He offered his arm, and together they exited the park, headed for the closest café.
OCTOBER 21, 1865
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
The cold snap that was gripping New York hadn’t relented, raising tensions all throughout the city as people fought for any piece of coal they could get their hands on.
While the chill was in the air outside, it was even colder inside 12 East Sixty-Ninth Street. There Isaac sat, his hands clasped in his laps as Lucy’s father, Everett Wagner, lambasted him.
“Mr. Grant, while I can appreciate what you’ve accomplished with getting your law degree, but your family—your father merely owns a small mill; he’s not known in the circles I frequent. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t look at your politics and say that having a man who openly supported a barbaric war that killed hundreds of thousands was not fit to be a part of my family and take my daughter’s hand in wedlock!”
“Mr. Wagner, my father is a great man who has worked hard all his life to get what he has. He sacrificed greatly to provide for us and ensure I was given an education. Secondly, I love your daughter and—”
Interrupting Isaac, Everett continued, “Love is not enough; no, it is not. A marriage is a contract in the eyes of God, and I must also look at this coupling socially. How will my friends and colleagues look upon me if I allow a man from an unknown family in Albany to marry my only daughter?”
“You’re saying I’m not good enough,” Isaac said.
“That is precisely what I’m saying, but I still can’t forget your support for that war. Even God did not approve of that war. Now I’ve said enough. I think you should leave.” He turned and placed his hands on the mantel of the roaring fireplace.
Isaac glared at Everett’s rotund frame. A burning rage was building in him, but he kept it at bay. Exploding on Everett and delivering a litany of reasons why his support for the war was just and righteous would not win him over. Biting his tongue, he sat and stared at the floor.
Everett faced Isaac and barked, “Mr. Grant, you are excused. I have nothing further to discuss with you.”
From the second-floor landing of the stairs just outside the den, Lucy sat and listened in horror as her father tore into Isaac. Her heart melted as her father pounded away.
Standing tall, Isaac declared, “Mr. Wagner, I love your daughter. While I disagree with much of what you said, I respect you because you’re an accomplished man and hold a positive impact in the community; however, I can’t leave without addressing some of the mischaracterizations you’ve said about me.”
Upon hearing those words leave Isaac’s mouth, Lucy hopped to her feet and raced down the stairs and into the room. “Father, please, I love him. I’ve loved him since the first day I saw him,” she begged as she ran up to Everett and took his hand.
Lowering his tone, he replied, “My darling Lucy, you know my feelings about the war and about his upbringing. Not only did the nation suffer, but our family did as well. Losing Robert will forever haunt me. And while I don’t blame Mr. Grant here specifically, I blame those warmongers in the capital and the devilish Mr. Lincoln; thank God he’s now gone.”
“Mr. Lincoln was a great man!” Isaac blared.
“Mr. Grant, you’re not helping yourself here. In fact, I find your tone to be indignant. Do you not know who you’re talking to?” Everett barked back.
Walking over to Isaac, Lucy took his hand and said, “My dear, it’s time for you to go. Let me walk you to the door.”
Not arguing with her, Isaac nodded. He glanced at Everett and said, “I’ll return in a week to ask again.”
“And my answer will be the same. You should know, Mr. Grant, I’m not a man to be trifled with,” Everett shot back. “I’ll never consent to this marriage, you hear me? Not even with my dying breath will I ever consent.”
“I’ll marry your daughter with or without your consent,” Isaac fired back, instantly regretting his word choice and tone.
Shooting Isaac a look of disdain, Everett sneered, “That will never happen, I can assure you. Now goodbye, Mr. Grant.”
Restraining himself from replying further, Isaac followed Lucy to the front door.
“Sweetheart, if we’re to be together, you must show restraint. While I love and adore your passion, it does no good with my father. He feels the way he does and for good cause. Losing my brother in the war has forever haunted him. Now go, I’ll work on him some more. Do come in a week’s time though and ask again.”
“But he’s so stubborn,” Isaac said.
“He is, but challenging him isn’t smart. You must show restraint. My father was right, he’s not a man to be trifled with; even Tammany Hall gives him respect. So please, I beg you, don’t rile him up again like you’ve done.”
“He just makes me so mad,” Isaac confessed.
“I understand, but please promise me you’ll keep your tone civil next time,” Lucy urged.
“I promise,” he said.
“You won’t go back on it, will you?” she asked.
“No, I won’t.” He sighed. “Gerald gave me the same advice you are. He said don’t go in there on your high horse.”
“Maybe you should listen to your friend,” Lucy said.
Gerald was an old childhood friend of Isaac’s who now lived in New York City. He hadn’t gone to war like Isaac due to a physical ailment but instead made his way to the city and had begun working in the shipyards. After the war, the two had reconnected and would often see each other.
“Can I see you sooner than next week?” Isaac asked.
“Of course, come for lunch in three days’ time,” she replied. “But promise me if you see my father, you’ll be respectful.”
Isaac kissed her hand and said, “I love you and I promise.”
“I love you too. Now go before my father has you arrested.”
“For what, loving his daughter?” Isaac laughed.
“I’m not making light of it. He knows many people; my father is a powerful man, you know this. Please be mindful next time,” Lucy said. Touching Isaac’s face tenderly, she continued, “Till we see each other again.”
“Till then,” Isaac said, leaving the warmth of the house and heading into the cold dark night.
***
Isaac replayed the encounter with Mr. Wagner over and over in his mind, regretting some of the things he’d said and internally praising others. It was an exercise he’d commit to for the week so that during his next attempt, he’d be more polished.
Screams and commotion down the street tore him away from his thoughts. He looked but couldn’t make out what was happening. Curious, he approached to discover a large group of men robbing a lumber and hardware store.
Having seen so much horror during the war, he wasn’t the least bit fazed by robbery; in fact, he found it somewhat entertaining to watch as men ran in and out, many taking with them sacks of coal and other items of value.
A boy jumped from the shattered front window and tripped on the ground, his face skidding across the sidewalk littered with shards of gla
ss. Yelping in pain, the boy cried out.
Seeing the boy was bleeding badly, Isaac walked up to him and knelt down. “You’re hurt.”
“I cut myself real bad,” the boy cried.
He was younger than Isaac first thought. Seeing him up close, Isaac realized he couldn’t have been older than seven. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he placed it against the deep cut on the boy’s face. “Press this against the cut.”
The boy did as he said.
“Say, what are you doing?” a gruff man barked from the shadows.
Isaac looked up to see a man coming at him, his fists clenched.
“The boy is hurt. I was merely—” Isaac said as he went to stand.
The man said nothing else. He cocked his right arm back and punched Isaac squarely in the face.
Isaac reeled from the blow, falling and hitting his head hard against a light post. He looked up and saw the man wasn’t satisfied with the first strike.
He came down on Isaac with what felt like an endless barrage of punches.
Isaac unsuccessfully tried to defend himself, but the first blow had left him dazed and incapable of fighting back.
Taking Isaac by his coat, the man lifted him up, cocked his arm back, and said, “This will teach you.” The man delivered the punch, hitting Isaac on the jaw and knocking him out.
OCTOBER 22, 1865
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
Isaac woke to the vilest stench. He went to sit up, but his body reminded him of the beating he’d received hours before. Looking around the dimly lit space, he made out vertical bars on the far wall. Squinting to focus, he then realized he was in jail. Aware of his predicament, he sprang to his feet and hobbled to the door. “Is anyone there?”
A raspy voice from the adjacent cell barked, “Shut up.”
“Where am I?” Isaac cried out.
“You’re in hell. Now shut up!” the voice shot back.
A door creaked open, letting in precious light. In came a burly man dressed in a blue uniform. He headed directly for Isaac’s cell. Stopping just beyond arm’s reach, he said, “Are you Mr. Grant?”
The Lawman Page 1