by Al Lacy
OTHER BOOKS BY AL LACY
Angel of Mercy series:
A Promise for Breanna (Book One)
Faithful Heart (Book Two)
Captive Set Free (Book Three)
A Dream Fulfilled (Book Four)
Suffer the Little Children (Book Five)
Whither Thou Goest (Book Six)
Final Justice (Book Seven)
Not by Might (Book Eight)
Things Not Seen (Book Nine)
Far Above Rubies (Book Ten)
Journeys of the Stranger series:
Legacy (Book One)
Silent Abduction (Book Two)
Blizzard (Book Three)
Tears of the Sun (Book Four)
Circle of Fire (Book Five)
Quiet Thunder (Book Six)
Snow Ghost (Book Seven)
Battles of Destiny (Civil War series):
Beloved Enemy (Battle of First Bull Run)
A Heart Divided (Battle of Mobile Bay)
A Promise Unbroken (Battle of Rich Mountain)
Shadowed Memories (Battle of Shiloh)
Joy from Ashes (Battle of Fredericksburg)
Season of Valor (Battle of Gettysburg)
Wings of the Wind (Battle of Antietam)
Turn of Glory (Battle of Chancellorsville)
Hannah of Fort Bridger series (coauthored with JoAnna Lacy):
Under the Distant Sky (Book One)
Consider the Lilies (Book Two)
No Place for Fear (Book Three)
Pillow of Stone (Book Four)
The Perfect Gift (Book Five)
Touch of Compassion (Book Six)
Beyond the Valley (Book Seven)
Damascus Journey (Book Eight)
Mail Order Bride series (coauthored with JoAnna Lacy):
Secrets of the Heart (Book One)
A Time to Love (Book Two)
Tender Flame (Book Three)
Blessed Are the Merciful (Book Four)
Ransom of Love (Book Five)
Until the Daybreak (Book Six)
Sincerely Yours (Book Seven)
A Measure of Grace (Book Eight)
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SO LITTLE TIME
published by Multnomah Publishers, Inc.
© 2002 by ALJO Productions, Inc.
Scripture quotations are from:
The Holy Bible, King James Version
Multnomah is a trademark of Multnomah Publishers, Inc.,
and is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
The colophon is a trademark of Multnomah Publishers, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission.
For information:
MULTNOMAH PUBLISHERS, INC.
POST OFFICE BOX 1720
SISTERS, OREGON 97759
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lacy, Al.
So little time / By Al and JoAnna Lacy.
p. cm. – (Mail order bride; bk. 9)
eISBN: 978-0-307-81443-2
1. Overland journeys to the Pacific–Fiction. 2. Women pioneers–Fiction. I. Lacy, JoAnna. II. Title.
PS3562.A256 S6 2002
813’.54–dc21 2001007866
v3.1
This book is affectionately dedicated to
Janice Dawson,
our dear and precious friend and loyal fan,
who herself has known the meaning implied in the title of this book.
We love you, Janice. The Lord bless you!
2 PETER 1:2
Contents
Cover
Other Books by These Authors
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
So teach us to number our days,
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
PSALM 90:12
Redeeming the time, because the days are evil
EPHESIANS 5:16
Time was—is past: thou canst not it recall:
Time is—thou hast: employ the portion small.
Time future—is not and may never be:
Time present—is the only time for thee.
Prologue
The Encyclopedia Britannica reports that the mail order business, also called direct mail marketing, “is a method of merchandising in which the seller’s offer is made through mass mailing of a circular or catalog or advertisement placed in a newspaper or magazine, in which the buyer places his order by mail.”
Britannica goes on to say that “mail order operations have been known in the United States in one form or another since colonial days, but not until the latter half of the nineteenth century did they assume a significant role in domestic trade.”
Thus the mail order market was known when the big gold rush took place in this country in the 1840s and 1850s. At that time prospectors, merchants, and adventurers raced from the East to the newly discovered goldfields in the West. One of the most famous was the California gold rush in 1848–49, when discovery of gold at Sutter’s Mill, near Sacramento, brought more than 40,000 men to California. Though few struck it rich, their presence stimulated economic growth, the lure of which brought even more men to the West.
The married men who had come to seek their fortunes sent for their wives and children, wanting to stay and make their home there. Most of the gold rush men were single and also desired to stay in the West, but there were about two hundred men for every single woman. Being familiar with the mail order concept, they began advertising in eastern newspapers for women to come West and marry them. Thus was born the “mail order bride.”
Women by the hundreds began answering the ads. Often when men and their prospective brides corresponded, they agreed to send no photographs; they would accept each other by the spirit of the letters rather than on a physical basis. Others, of course, did exchange photographs.
The mail order bride movement accelerated after the Civil War ended in April 1865, when men went West by the thousands to make their fortunes on the frontier. Many of the marriages turned out well, while others were disappointing and ended in desertion by one or the other of the mates, or by divorce.
In the Mail Order Bride fiction series, we tell stories intended to grip the heart of the reader, bring some smiles, and maybe wring out a few tears. As always, we weave in the gospel of Jesus Christ and run threads of Bible truth that apply to our lives today.
Introduction
AMERICA’S CIVIL WAR BEGAN ON APRIL 12, 1861, and lasted three days short of four years.
On April 6, 1865, General Robert E. Lee and his Army of Northern Virginia drew up to the Farmville and High Bridge crossings of the Appomattox River in Virginia, and while
they were crossing the river, General Ulysses S. Grant’s Army of the Potomac surrounded them. The Confederates were forced to lay down their arms without a shot being fired.
Lee quickly saw that this was the Confederacy’s last stand, and after negotiations with Grant, agreed to surrender. Three days later, on April 9, at the former county seat known as Appomattox Courthouse, Lee surrendered to Grant, thus effectively ending the Civil War.
Five days later, on April 14, tragedy struck.
1
FIVE MEN HUDDLED IN A DARK ALLEY in a residential section near the intersection of Pennsylvania and Louisiana Avenues, their hard faces alabaster masks in the moonlight. Their horses were tied next to a small barn nearby. It was just after ten o’clock in Washington, D.C., on the starlit night of April 14, 1865. A brilliant full moon was rising into the sky behind some low, long-fingered clouds on the eastern horizon. Lewis Paine, Samuel Arnold, Michael O’Laughlin, Edman Spangler, and George Atzerodt were looking toward the street expectantly.
“What do you suppose is holding them?” asked a nervous Edman Spangler. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?”
“Who knows?” said Lewis Paine. “Why don’t you go take another look?”
“I’ll do it,” said Spangler, heading toward the street.
The others watched as Spangler hurried to the end of the alley, and keeping in the shadows, looked northwest on Pennsylvania Avenue. He stared that direction for a long moment, as buggies and carriages with burning lanterns for headlights passed by; then he turned and hurried back to his cohorts. “Naw. Ain’t no sign of them, yet.”
Michael O’Laughlin took a deep breath. His back was rigid and his voice unsteady. “Something’s gone wrong, I just know it.”
Waving him off, Lewis Paine said, “Now, don’t go giving up, Mike. They might have to veer around some mounted policemen, who’d wonder why they’re riding so fast. Those two guys know what they’re doing. Have a little faith.”
A feeling of panic nudged the back of Samuel Arnold’s consciousness. “Lewis, what if Mike’s right? What if something did go wrong? What if they were caught right there on the spot?”
Paine gave him a scowl. “Like I said, Sam. Have a little faith.”
“I’m gonna go check.” Arnold hurried toward the street.
George Atzerodt sighed, watching Arnold move away. “It shouldn’t be taking this long, Lewis.
Arnold called back in a hoarse whisper, “Here they come!”
Rapid hoofbeats were heard as Samuel Arnold was scurrying back to his friends, and seconds later, two riders turned into the alley. The five horses that were tied at the small barn whinnied at the presence of the other horses, and the two carrying the riders whinnied in return.
By the bright moonlight, the riders caught sight of their cohorts huddling close to the barn.
The five men saw quickly that one of the riders was bent over in the saddle, his hand gripping his left leg. The other one was riding close, holding onto his arm. They rushed to the pair as they drew rein, and Lewis Paine asked, “Is it done?”
A gloating smile stole across David Herold’s face. “It is done.” He leaned from the saddle in an effort to keep his friend from falling from his horse.
“Great!” said Paine, while the other four were silently rejoicing at the good news. He then looked at the injured rider, frowning. “What happened?”
“I think I broke my leg in the escape,” said the injured man through clenched teeth. His forehead was clammy with cold sweat. “No time to explain right now. We’ve gotta get outta here!”
“Yeah, in a hurry!” said David Herold. “People along the way—both afoot and in vehicles—have taken notice of us galloping down the street. They’ll tell the police. We’re going over the Navy Yard Bridge as planned. All of you move out there on the street. When the police come, tell them you saw two riders, in a hurry, turn east on Louisiana Avenue.”
“We’ll do it,” said Edman Spangler.
A worried George Atzerodt stepped up to the injured rider. “Can you stay in the saddle?”
“I’ll have to.” The reply was through gritted teeth as the man kept a tight grip on his left leg. “Believe me, I’m not gonna fall off. I did what I went there to do tonight, and they’re not catching me. I’m getting away. Hurrah for the Confederacy!”
“We’re sorry you’re hurt,” said Michael O’Laughlin, “but at least it’s done! The South has its revenge!”
“Even if this leg is broken,” said the man bent over in the saddle, “it’s worth it.”
Still gripping his friend’s arm, David Herold said, “Let’s go!”
While the two men were riding away, the five Confederate sympathizers were hugging each other.
George Atzerodt laughed. “The Confederacy just scored a monumental victory, even though we lost the War!”
The others laughed in agreement, then Lewis Paine said, “All right, boys, let’s get out there on the street.”
The quintet dashed out onto Pennsylvania Avenue, and with Paine in the lead, they ran the opposite direction from the way their friends had gone. They drew up under a street lamp at the next intersection.
People in horse-drawn vehicles and those riding horseback glanced at them as they passed by.
“I sure hope they get over the bridge all right,” said O’Laughlin.
“They will,” Spangler said in a confident tone.
Suddenly they heard the rapid pounding of hoofbeats, and looked up the avenue to see four uniformed riders galloping toward them. The officers spotted the five men grouped under the street lamp and pulled rein.
“You men see two riders go by here like they were in a horse race?” asked one of the officers.
“Yes, sir,” said Lewis Paine. “They were riding like the devil himself was after them. They turned left down there on Louisiana Avenue.”
“Thanks,” said the officer, and they put their horses back to a gallop as they headed down Pennsylvania Avenue. The Confederates watched them slow down at the next corner, turn east on Louisiana Avenue, and whip their mounts to full speed.
Lewis Paine laughed heartily. “Well, those hotshots won’t catch them, I’ll guarantee you that!”
The five men laughed together, rejoicing once again in the tremendous victory gained for the Confederacy that night.
2
THE NAVY YARD BRIDGE SPANNED the eastern branch of the Potomac River from Washington, D.C., into Maryland at the foot of Eleventh Street in the southeast section of Washington.
At ten-thirty on the night of April 14, 1865, in the guardhouse at the Washington end of the bridge, Union Sergeant Silas Cobb had just welcomed an old friend from his hometown of Springfield, Illinois—Ward Hill Lamon, who had ridden a borrowed horse to the bridge to see him.
The sergeant introduced his fellow guards, Corporals Eddie Cavin and Mike Hankins, to Lamon. He said that Mr. Lamon was his father’s attorney, and that they were close friends.
Smiling warmly, Cobb laid a hand on Lamon’s shoulder. “I really appreciate your coming by to see me, Ward. Dad wrote and told me you were coming to Washington on business and were going to have dinner at the White House with President and Mrs. Lincoln … what was it? April 11?”
“Yes. Just last Tuesday. It was my privilege to spend the entire evening with them.”
“So you know Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln personally, do you, Mr. Lamon?” said Corporal Hankins.
“Yes,” said Lamon. “I got to know them quite well when they lived in Springfield. Mr. Lincoln and I both worked in the same law firm from 1836 until he was elected to Congress in 1847.”
“You must have gotten to know him quite well,” commented Corporal Cavin.
“Yes. Quite well, indeed, and there’s not a man on earth I admire as much as I do him.”
“President Lincoln has carried a tremendous load during the Civil War,” said Sergeant Cobb. “How were his spirits when you spent the evening with him just two days after the war was over?”
>
Lamon reflected on the question. “Well, in one way, he was superbly happy and jovial, but in another way, he seemed quite melancholy.”
Cobb’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“When the surrender of General Lee to General Grant at Appomattox Courthouse was the subject, there was pure elation. He did, however, speak of his utmost respect for General Lee as a soldier and a gentleman. He admires General Lee very much.”
The three soldiers nodded.
Lamon went on. “It was after dinner when we were relaxing in the Red Room at the White House that he seemed to become melancholy. Mrs. Lincoln noticed it and asked if something was bothering him. He was reluctant to share the reason for his depression, but she pressed him about it, and he told her it was because of a nightmare he had a few nights before. He said it had haunted him ever since, but he would rather not talk about it.
“As I said, I know the Lincolns quite well, and back when we were in the same law firm, Mrs. Lincoln and my wife became quite close. One time, Mrs. Lincoln shared with us that since her childhood, she had been afflicted by dreadful nightmares. So I wasn’t surprised when Mr. Lincoln brought up the nightmare that Mrs. Lincoln would not let the subject drop. ‘You frighten me, Abe,’ she said. ‘I want to know about it.’
“Well, by now, the president evidently regretted having aroused the morbid fears that sprang from his wife’s nature, for he said he wished she hadn’t asked him about what was troubling him. But despite her husband’s reluctance, Mrs. Lincoln insisted that then and there he describe the nightmare. At last, he agreed.
“He began by referring to the Bible, and how in both the Old and New Testaments, God and His angels came to men in dreams. He went on to say that since the Bible was completed and man now has the full written revelation from God, that he believed people on earth learn God’s truth by reading the Bible, not from dreams. He wanted to make sure that both of us understood that he wasn’t taking the nightmare as a message from God.
“Mr. Lincoln said that one recent night, he had gone wearily to bed after waiting up late for important dispatches. Almost immediately he had fallen into a deep slumber and soon had begun to dream. ‘There seemed to be a deathlike stillness about me,’ he said. ‘Then I heard subdued sobs, as if a number of people were weeping. In my dream, I left my bed and wandered downstairs. Finding no one, I roamed from room to room, seeking the source of the sorrowing sounds. I kept on until I arrived in the East Room. There I met with a sickening surprise. Before me was a catafalque, on which rested a coffin. In the coffin was a corpse in funeral vestments. Around it were stationed soldiers who were acting as guards; there was a throng of people, some gazing mournfully upon the corpse, whose face was covered, with others weeping pitifully.’