"Shouldn't I send for the colonel?"
"No. Of course not. This silliness isn't worth disturbing him at his post. Do as I say and go," she said, with annoyance this time.
Astonishment was clearly written in all of their faces, each furtively surveying the room with their eyes, following Marguerite's orders reluctantly, but obediently. All the while she sat smiling with odd amusement in her dark eyes, her hair and gown disheveled, as if she'd been in some sort of struggle. The servants' expressions showed they questioned her, but there was nothing for them to do but finally retreat as she'd demanded.
Marguerite waited, enjoying every moment she kept Aaron stretched unseen beneath her bed. "You may come out now," she giggled. "Whatever possessed you to do that? You could have got us both into a peck of trouble!"
"Let's say it never occurred to me you'd have it in mind to defend your virtue," he said without a hint of anger, swiftly loosening the straps of her sleeveless gown, burying his face in the softness of her breasts.
"You are a very reckless man," she murmured, "more so than I would have ever dreamed. Is that what makes you so desirable, sir?" And they exchanged few other words until he left in the early, still dark morning.
"You have my permission to come this way again, anytime you choose," she said when he was dressed and ready to leave. "I'll not fire so quickly next time."
"I'd just as soon take my chances at Elena's, and pay your exorbitant fees," he laughed.
"What brings you to my door in such an unorthodox style? You're all getting a bit queer lately, it seems to me. Must be all this war business."
"What do you mean?"
"Easton called on me not long ago."
"So?"
"So? Well, he wanted an introduction to General Hoffmann, which of course, was a simple matter. But instead of asking outright, he slithered around me until I could bear it no longer and had to ask what it was he wanted of me." She giggled. "I thought for a moment he wanted what you always come for." She paused and her voice suddenly took on a very serious tone. "What do you come for, Marshall?"
Aaron didn't answer immediately, but sat on the bed again, taking her face in his hands. "You've always known just what I wanted. At least, I've never gone away wanting more than you gave." He kissed her mouth, hoping she'd not question him further. "But next time, I'll try a more formal approach." He covered her with her satin comforter. "Let me make my exit with less excitement than I made my entrance. I know the way." And he left her smiling at him in the darkness.
Aaron went out the way he came in. The morning air seemed excessively damp, and all of a sudden especially heavy. He turned up the collar of his pea coat, and walked swiftly toward the Crystal Mae. So, he thought, William Easton had wanted and obtained an introduction to General Hoffmann. What for? If Peter Melville had wanted to establish contact with the general he certainly would not have sent Easton as an intermediary, Aaron reasoned as he hurried along the fog-wet streets.
Tonight Aaron's instinctive wariness was unusually keen as something ill-defined began to gnaw at the back of his neck. He knew for certain the raised collar of his coat would not ease the feeling, and he began to move and feel like a stalked animal once again. Instincts he'd almost forgotten were still available from the recesses of his more haunted past, and he called on them once again for reasons he was not yet sure of.
Chapter Ninety-eight
AARON did not stand watches. He was not officially a member of the ship's crew. His name was not listed in the ship's log, even as a passenger. But often out of habit, he would stay above decks the span of a watch, if there was no other matter to claim his attention. Usually, when he did, he did his share of work, and today he handily spliced line. To any who noted his occupation, it appeared he was thoroughly absorbed in his task. His hands did their work mechanically, in mindless repetition, but his mind was not idle. He sat in the damp, dull morning and mulled over Marguerite's remarks about Easton, conjecturing the man's purposes, and the information he could pass, if he chose. Aaron weighed the possibilities. He had never regarded Easton seriously. Perhaps he had been wrong not to. But it was an error Aaron felt sure other members of the conspiracy had made, as well; a fact which could make Easton all the more dangerous now.
Aaron reviewed his information about Easton. He knew the documented details of the man's life, and had observed him firsthand. William Easton was not an ordinary man by anyone's standards. He was a man overly impressed with his own worth; inclined to pettiness; autocratic. He appeared refined, cold, efficient. He was ambitious; otherwise, he would never have joined the men with whom he plotted.
Then suddenly without discussion, without his consent, Easton had been replaced in the schemes. Everyone involved had believed Easton accepted these changes without a murmur. But this Aaron doubted. Easton may have reconciled himself to the new situation, but, Aaron suspected, chances were Easton would be vindictive. There was certainly nothing in the man's demeanor to suggest he was particularly generous. He would never accept his dethroning philosophically. More than likely, he would plot the destruction of his enemies. The question was only when and where.
In the morning the Crystal Mae weighed anchor and moved to a new mooring. Late that night, they were approached by a nearly invisible boat, followed almost immediately by another when the first cargo was unloaded. A methodical, rhythmic string of boats approached the Crystal Mae, one after the other, distributing their crates and barrels with precision in the silent, black night.
No one should have been the wiser. To the uninformed observer there was nothing of note going on aboard Hansen's vessel. She was only doing what she claimed: waiting for cargo and passengers yet to arrive from Carson City. But there were no uninformed observers. All those who watched had extraordinary information. They knew what they watched, when to pounce, and who in particular they wished to snare. The only information they lacked was who was responsible for pirating the damning government cargo. There was no clue in the dark night, and every attempt to follow the small boats that sailed to the Crystal Mae's berth failed.
When General Hoffmann threw out his net, he was sure he had what he wanted. He demanded enough evidence to hang his captives, or at least the principals, and when he gave the signal, dark-clad soldiers, as inconspicuous as the ghosts who wordlessly paraded the ship's decks clamored from out of nowhere on the pier. Their prey was totally unprepared for seizure. Almost no one aboard had anticipated interruption; there had not even been a guard posted. It was as if the crew merely engaged in a business transaction, and not an act of war.
But there was no mistaking General Hoffmann's intent, and his soldiers understood their orders were extremely serious. They were to subdue all those aboard the Crystal Mae, and one man in particular. It was Marshall Hudson, as well as the illegal cargo, that the general wanted. Marshall Hudson had been carefully identified as the key to unraveling the rest. Above all he was to be captured. Three of the general's handpicked soldiers dragged the marked man before their commander, and Hoffmann breathed more freely than he had since he'd given the exceptionally beautiful Chinese agent payment for Easton's client. With Hudson's capture, Hoffmann had every reason to believe the other men on Easton's list were authentic.
General Hoffmann stared at Marshall Hudson, noting the man's apparent arrogance despite the fact he'd taken quite a beating from his captors. From out of the bloodied face burned deceitful and disrespectful eyes. If he were a sample of the types who favored the South in this state, Hoffmann concluded, martial law should be declared until the crisis was well in hand. California was on the brink of being turned upside down.
It seemed odd to him that the conflict that gripped the nation so many hundreds of rugged miles away could have so seriously disrupted this state's far-flung population. But, General Hoffmann reflected, causes were not solely a matter of geography: above all, causes afflicted men's hearts. He watched his soldiers struggle fiercely with the man he sought most for questioning, and, proba
bly, execution if the information he'd been given proved correct, reminded that greed often determined men's politics above more noble emotions. In the end, Marshall Hudson's reasons for treason would be of no consequence; it merely would be interesting to know what motivated the man.
Hoffmann suspected, as he glared into the arrogant young man's eyes, commitment to principles did not chart this man's course. Marshall Hudson had the look of pride and insolence that damned him even before his case was heard. And, in Hoffmann's view, this very air of superiority, this sense of right above law, would be what would eventually make the North victorious in the conflict Marshall Hudson's Southern comrades would soon call "Lincoln's War."
Chapter Ninety-nine
LOUISA had welcomed the warm spring weather as she would have welcomed a healing salve upon an open sore. Whenever she relinquished Rachel to any of a number of other eager hands, Louisa and Coffee were inseparable. The mare had trimmed down from months of near idleness, now expecting Louisa to take her out at certain times during the day, neighing impatiently if her schedule was overturned.
Whenever possible, Louisa and her horse flew together across the sand, sometimes venturing into overgrown canyons, or along the river. A few times they had ventured as far as Luther Dobson's property, stopping for a while at Marshall's unmarked grave beneath the oak tree. Louisa had brought Emma there once, and not long afterward she thought she saw a certain drawn look fade from the older woman's face. There was something very soothing about the setting chosen for his grave, a comforting timeless feeling beneath the aging arms of that giant tree. Beneath those heavy dark green limbs, Louisa was certain death held more promise than the grave, and she sensed Emma felt so, too.
Not many weeks after Louisa and Emma's outing, Louisa returned to the compound with both horse and rider exhausted, surprised to see a strange carriage secured in front of the house. She couldn't begin to speculate who would be visiting, but the expression on Emma's face when she greeted her told her, even before the woman spoke, it was someone she would never expect to see.
"William Easton and little Loo Kim are here," Emma said, as if she also found it difficult to believe.
"Oh? What does he want?"
"He hasn't said. But he's made it very clear he wants to speak to you―alone."
Louisa patted Coffee and stroked her nose, handing the horse's reins to Manuel. "It could be about anything, knowing him," she whispered sternly, beginning to climb the steps into the house.
Emma reached for her arm. "He looks odd," she cautioned.
Louisa's mouth twisted a little into a tight wry smile. "More so than usual?"
Emma nodded.
"Well, I guess I'd better find out what he has on his mind." Louisa laid her gloves the one concession she made to a proper riding outfit but only to save her hands from abuse in the drawer in the hallway, taking a few minutes before the mirror to arrange her hair, then pushed open the door to greet Easton and Loo Kim.
"Hello, William," she said, extending her hand, appalled by his paleness and by the lack of strength she felt in his arms as she shook his hand when he rose to greet her. "Loo Kim, you are as lovely as ever," she said to the girl who stood a few feet behind her master and the servant girl bowed as demurely as ever. "Has Emma offered you some tea, or perhaps lunch?" she asked, glancing at the clock on the table beside her when she sat down opposite her guests.
"Yes, it's been offered, but I have declined. My appetite, with traveling, has not been good."
Louisa nodded, trying not to stare too obviously as she slowly sized up Easton's appearance. "Tell me why you've come this way," Louisa ventured, hoping to have the interview over as quickly as possible, upset by the man's nearly cadaverous look.
"Surely you've had word by now?"
Louisa shrugged her shoulders. "I've no word of anything worth mentioning, William. San Diego seems to be a very out-of-the-way place. I'm not informed in the least."
He frowned. "I had not intended to bring you the news."
"What news?" Louisa demanded almost impatiently, feeling a sudden wave of tension grip her.
Easton chewed his lip for a moment. Something was wrong. He was suddenly anguished. This would not be the meeting he'd planned with her. But he had come this far, and he was compelled to continue. "Your husband has been seized; condemned as a traitor and sentenced to hang. I did not learn the date set for his execution, but it is possible the event has already taken place."
As he spoke, Louisa's eyes widened and she paled under her suntanned skin. Suddenly she realized she was holding her breath, and she sucked in air, releasing it with effort. She felt as if Easton had struck her head with some heavy object; there was a tremendous pressure on her ears, and a ringing in her head. Her eyes blurred with tears, which for some reason did not run down her cheeks, and it seemed an eternity before she could really focus on her guests again.
"I've heard nothing at all about this," she whispered finally. "Why wasn't I informed sooner? When was he arrested?"
"It's been weeks now. Perhaps no one else knows."
"Why not?" she asked in total surprise.
"The house in Monterey burned. Perhaps they've not discovered where everyone has gone."
"The house burned? How? Where has everyone gone?"
"I expect Peter and Franklin remain at Brockheim's."
"You mean you don't know?"
"Not for certain."
Louisa felt at least as confused as Easton seemed to be. "How is it you know about Marshall?" she asked. "Where is he precisely?"
"I don't know his circumstances exactly, but he was taken prisoner in San Francisco the night he loaded a shipment of stolen government munitions aboard Captain Hansen's ship. It seems the authorities were informed of the maneuver. General Hoffmann also has a very complete list of names of those involved in the conspiracy."
"He does?" Louisa frowned. "How did he come by such information?"
"I can't tell you, my dear."
"So the plot is up, then, William? Is that what you came to tell me?"
"Why, no! I imagined you'd be advised by now. I came to console you in your sorrow. I came to invite you to come with me."
Louisa had no reply. She was too stunned. She raised her eyes to Loo Kim, who seemed not to have moved the whole time she and William talked. Louisa was struck again by the passive beauty of the young woman, surprised she was still at Easton's side in the 'changed circumstances. "Come with you, William?" Louisa asked, unable to conceal the incredulous note in her voice.
"I'm on my way to Mexico, to investigate and reopen some of her vastly rich silver mines. A man of vision and ambition should be able to see to it easily. The fortune that waits for us, Louisa, is unsurpassed in this century. The mines will produce wealth to exceed anything we've seen in California. There are no real obstacles to opening the mines again. I have the means to accomplish it."
"The means?"
"The capital and the intelligence."
"I see," Louisa said cautiously, "but, as you can see, I am in no position to go with you, William. Your news has taken me totally by surprise. What is more, I have no intention of leaving here, nor of ever traveling under your protection."
Easton felt the insult of her words. "You might be implicated in the political schemes," he suggested, choosing to ignore she had declined his offer.
"Did you implicate me?"
"No, of course not!"
Louisa's eyes narrowed on him fiercely. "You're the informer, then."
Easton licked his lips nervously. "You misunderstand me, madam," he said sharply.
"I have never misunderstood you!"
"Nor I, you, Louisa," he said, calm once more, changing the tone of his voice suddenly to one that made Louisa's flesh crawl, making her remember Easton had been a friend of her father.
Louisa saw Easton read the flash of recognition that passed over her face. Perhaps, she thought, he was not as dull as he appeared. What accounted for his wasted appearance
, Louisa wondered all of a sudden, but she had no time to consider the possibilities as she listened in horror and disbelief while Easton spoke of Justin Boyd. "Before he died, Justin told me of your needs, Louisa. He promised me you were most seductive. Is it any wonder I've not wanted to leave without you? All of your life you've been under a man's protection, and I've come to offer mine to you now."
Louisa was astounded, and rose to her feet. "Get out!" she demanded. When Easton did not move, Louisa lowered her voice slightly. The sound of her voice had a hollow, tormented quality that Easton could not fail to respond to. "I said, get out. Get out, or I will have your blood on my hands, as well!" she· whispered ominously, and he did not doubt her for a second.
Easton stood quickly, gesturing for Loo Kim to go before him and open the door.
"Loo Kim, you needn't leave with him!" Louisa called after her.
"She is under contract!" Easton interrupted indignantly.
"I doubt you're in any position to contest any breach of contract," Louisa said sternly. "Loo Kim?"
"No, I will go with him, madam," Loo Kim said softly. "I will take care of him," she offered, standing erect, looking poised and strangely determined, for once looking Louisa directly in the eye. "I will see to him. I have promised."
Louisa could scarcely believe Loo Kim would follow after Easton as she watched them leave the compound. In Louisa's estimation, William Easton wasn't entitled to the devotion of a dog. Then suddenly it occurred to her, the promise Loo Kim had made might be quite different from what it seemed. "I will take care of him" might not mean what Louisa had at first thought. Louisa smiled sadly, then felt tears begin to streak her burning cheeks. It was a kind of vengeance Louisa understood only too well.
Chapter One Hundred
WHEN Emma heard the carriage start up, she came from another part of the house to find Louisa wiping tears from her eyes. "Louisa?" she said.
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